Beastborne- Mark of the Founder

by James T Callum

  There was a hint of surprise in her eyes. Something in them sparked to life for a second. Something that looked a lot like hope to Hal, though he couldn’t say why.

  “So,” Hal said, looking at the iron links of his chains, “do you know why I’m going to be killed?”

  “I do not, though I can hazard a guess. Would that be… ‘real enough’ for you?” The edges of her lips quirked up.

  Hal rolled his eyes at her. “Sure, give me your best guess as to why I deserve to be killed.”

  “Oh. That is an entirely different line of thought that requires a different answer. I will answer in order, however, if you do not mind. It is only fitting, I think.”

  The chains rattled as Hal made a rolling gesture with his hand for her to continue.

  “You are not a Citizen of this Sanctum or any that the Founder - or more likely the Magister that oversees the mundane day-to-day operations - could find willing to lay claim to you.

  “As such you are presumed dangerous and to be put to death rather than risk the harm you may cause the Sanctum. In short, you are an unknown and in the eyes of the Founder it is best to eliminate unknowns.”

  “I’m assuming a Founder is the person in charge of this Sanctum?”

  “You really must not be from around here.” Her gaze was piercing as she raked her eyes over him. “As to why you deserve to be killed? I could not even attempt to guess. I do not believe most people deserve death. Perhaps I am biased.”

  “Because you bear the stories of their lives?” Hal guessed.

  “Just so. Unfortunately, it is neither my place to pass judgment nor absolve of such crimes. My task is to remember them.” Though she didn’t say it, it was clear she disagreed.

  “Why do you do it?” Before she could open her mouth, Hal added, “I mean why are you made to do it. It’s pretty obvious you aren’t given a great deal of choice in the matter. But what I can’t understand is what the point is.”

  “The Founder is… superstitious. He does not like the supernatural, particularly ghosts of the vengeful kind.”

  “And somehow talking to the soon-to-be-departed stops them from returning as ghosts to haunt that guy’s ash?”

  “What a… horribly comical and crass thing to say.” Her lips thinned to suppress a smile. “In a manner of speaking, yes. A Keeper can soothe a soul, allowing them to pass on without the baggage of their life. It is a kindness to them and a potential aid to the Founder.”

  Hal snorted. “Except you’re forced to do it. Doesn’t sound that kind when the person doing the job has just as much choice in the matter as the prisoner.”

  Ashera paused a moment and then took several steps closer. She sat down so close that Hal could have reached out and touched her even with the ridiculously short chain. “You are odd.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Of all the people I have borne witness to, you are the first who did not wish to open up. You are the first to ask about me and my plight even though your own life is hours away from being over.” Ashera tilted her head to the side, the silver ornament that encircled the base of her horn glinted in the dim light. “Why?”

  “I’m not that interesting, to be honest,” Hal answered truthfully. “Got nothing to unburden. I’m boring. Average. Typical.”

  “And yet, you are the first in a long list of people who have never seen or thought to see the chains that bind me just as surely as those around your wrists. That is not ‘typical’ to me.” Ashera reached a hand out and gently rested her warm fingertips upon Hal’s cold and clammy hand.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to attack you and make a break for it?” Hal asked with a bark of a laugh at the ridiculous notion. Even doubling his STR to 2, he wasn’t breaking out of a wet paper bag.

  She sandwiched Hal’s hand between her warm palms. It was the first time that he realized how cold he was. He still had all his clothes, they hadn’t bothered to strip or take anything off him. Not that he had anything to be taken. Though he was surprised to still see the bandage in place covering up the mark.

  Considering what Elora had said, he bleakly wondered what more they would have done to him if they had seen it. It wasn’t like they could kill him any deader than he’d soon be.

  “I do not believe you will harm me.” Ashera followed Hal’s gaze to the bandage. “I have some minor healing abilities, may I?”

  “Why bother, I’m going to be dead soon anyway.” Though if he was being honest, it would be nice not to die quite so miserable. His head was killing him and his leg was sending nauseating waves of pain throughout his body with each beat of his heart. The worry over tetanus or infection was long-gone with the knowledge that he would be dead long before either could settle in. Thin trails of blood leaked out from beneath the heavy iron manacles.

  “Because it will ease your pain and for a kind soul that reminded me I exist outside of my duties, it would be my honor.” Her hands glowed a soft gold and she touched them with supreme tenderness to Hal’s wrists one after the other.

  Ashera casts Minor Cure.

  You recover 15 points of HP.

  The feeling of warm relief that washed over him was more than simple healing, he felt refreshed. It was like he had slept a full night. He felt better than he had in years if he was being entirely honest.

  “Here, you should no longer need this.” Ashera hooked one finger beneath his bandage and ripped it off.

  When he finally did open his eyes, Ashera’s gaze was locked onto his forearm as if Hal had a coiled viper there ready to strike. Her mouth worked soundlessly and it took Hal a moment to realize what she was looking at. The mark.

  “I get the feeling this a bad thing.” Hal nodded at his wrist. The golden ink glowed brighter than usual in the dim room. He looked up at Ashera, her eyes still locked onto the mark. “You gonna kill me now or something?”

  Her answer was barely above a whisper. “No.” She blinked rapidly, the trance broken by her voice. It caught her by surprise and for a moment she seemed uncertain where it came from. For all the concern and warring emotions that played over her delicate features, she did not move away.

  “Since I’m going to die anyway, could you tell me why everybody around here acts like-” He motioned at her, realizing he didn’t actually have an analogy at hand.

  Nobody had ever, in all his twenty-four years of life, looked at him like that. “Of the people who have seen it, only two haven’t tried to kill me and I’m still not sure about Elora.”

  Ashera’s hands shook as she extended them toward Hal. “May I?” she asked, never taking her eyes off the mark.

  Hal shrugged. The woman took his arm gently in her hands, turning it this way and that to catch every intricate inch of the gold tattoo.

  “You said Elora.” Her eyes flicked up to meet his with that piercing stare that bored into his soul. “How do you know her?”

  “I met her in the woods after I was chased by some people, I think she called them the Broken - which, by the way, nobody has told me what that means either - she saw that mark too and acted a lot like you except more violent.”

  “That sounds like Elora all right.” Her lips quirked into a smile and she ducked her head back down to gaze at Hal’s mark, giving him a close-up view of her horns. They vaguely reminded him of cow horns but smaller and somehow pretty.

  “You know Elora?” A spark of hope caught in his chest. He didn’t know from where but suddenly things seemed to shift as he latched on to that idea. For the first time since he woke up, Hal began to entertain the notion that maybe he could get out.

  Maybe she’ll be able to find me and break me out.

  “Of course, she is my friend. Why would I not?” Ashera’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at him. “What is she mixed up in now?”

  Hal opted to give her the short version of everything that happened, hoping that once she had the whole story maybe she’d find a way to help him. It was a long shot but considering his dwindling hours left alive, he might as we
ll swing for the fences.

  She stayed quiet the whole time, her sad eyes fastened to his. It was a little unnerving.

  Ashera was a great listener. Probably came with all the practice of being a Keeper. “Is Elora… safe?” Hal asked.

  “To the best of my knowledge, she has not been captured,” Ashera confirmed, looking more than a little relieved herself. “Nor has there been a call for her arrest or banishment.

  “It is a wonder you survived the Broken at all, not to mention Elora. She is peculiar with her trust.” She looked down. “I am sorry that your hope for a rational rule was dashed so thoroughly. That is not the way of the world.”

  “But it should be,” Hal countered.

  “Now you sound like Elora.”

  “Maybe she was onto something then. Nobody should be thrust into chains simply for being unknown or different.” He jerked his chin towards her. “Nobody should be forced into burdening their souls for the sake of a cowardly ruler. People deserve to be treated with dignity and respect!”

  Her pale hands flew up and she patted the air between them. “Shh! Keep your voice down. While I am trusted, there is a guard that escorts me. If he thinks something is amiss he will not hesitate to move up your appointment with death.”

  Heaving a soul-wearying sigh, Hal slumped his shoulders and nodded. The brief flash of anger drained out of him, leaving him feeling hollow. “So, what does the mark mean?”

  “I do not know.”

  The flash of anger was back. If nobody knew what the mark was, why were so many people trying to kill him then? He said as much to Ashera, doing his best to stifle the anger before it lifted his voice to a shout.

  “Because,” she said as if talking to a child, “the only people who have such marks are the Founders. They are the only ones capable of instilling life to a Manaseed.”

  Ashera raised a hand to forestall the question that hung on his lips. “A Manaseed grows into a Manatree. The beating magical heart of any Sanctum. If you are truly gifted with the same powers, then you have the ability to create a Sanctum as well. And they would have a vested interest in killing you sooner than later.”

  “Why, because I’m weak?”

  “That, and if you gain hold of a Manatree you will be immortal. They would have to destroy the Manatree - I am sure you have seen the large pale tree that towers over Fallwreath? That is a Manatree. I can assure you, it is no small feat to destroy a Manatree.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Not only did he definitively not have magical powers but he was pretty sure that sounded like a good thing. Though, if he was being honest, getting a Manatree somehow just shot up in his list of priorities.

  Right under “survive.” Being immortal sounded pretty good.

  “Shouldn’t people want more Sanctums? That hardly seems worthy of being sentenced to death.”

  “The Founders…” Ashera shook her head and started again. “They have a weighty burden upon their shoulders but for all the good they have done, they are selfish and cruel. Treating the people within their protection as little more than playthings to do with as they like, knowing that they cannot very well leave and survive beyond the safety of the Sanctum. I assure you, if the Sanctum Watch had seen your mark you would have been killed on the spot. Or worse.”

  “What would be worse?” Hal found himself saying before he could shut his big mouth.

  “I have heard tales of other Founders appearing, little more than rumor, but it seems to resurface every few years. A stumbling madman bearing the mark of the Founder is discovered and tortured for his or her dark ways.

  “If they were a Founder, they would have a Sanctum already is the belief. Most of them are incomprehensible and lash out at anybody trying to help.”

  “Okay, that sounds less than ideal,” Hal agreed. The truth was, without understanding the language or starting with 1 INT like he did it would be easy to fall into that very trap. He hadn’t appreciated until that moment just how much Elora had done for him. “So what are you going to do?”

  Ashera’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  Hal motioned to the mark. “You know what I am. Do I look mad? Am I trying to hurt you or anybody?”

  The faint reek of one of the buckets smelled like spoiled vegetables. His stomach complained noisily. He could not remember the last time he ate.

  That poisonous mushroom did not count.

  Thinking about the mushroom made him miss the water Elora had in that leather canteen she kept on her hip.

  “The merciful thing to do would be to rewrap the bandage and allow you a swift and clean death.” It sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Elora would… argue with that.”

  Hal clung to that like a lifeline. Shoved the gnawing hunger in his middle away. “What would Elora argue?”

  “She would say it was our duty to shepherd a new Founder away from the corrupted and hide him or her somewhere safe until their powers could manifest. But it would be beyond risky and there is not much I can do for you while we are both imprisoned.”

  The beginnings of a plan began to fall into place. Ashera may not be able to do anything for him but Hal was certain there was something he could do for her.

  6

  The ivory band at Ashera’s neck was outlined with the faintest blue light. It caught Hal’s eye and he stared at it, twisting his head to get a better look.

  “What are you looking at?” Ashera asked, placing a hand self-consciously to the band around her neck.

  Without thinking, Hal raised his hands as far as they would go until the chain went taut toward Ashera. His fingers outstretched. She looked at him, her expression unreadable. Her pale eyes trailed down his arms to his fingers.

  An understanding passed between them at that moment and the woman leaned forward far enough that they could have embraced. Instead, Hal placed his fingers on the woven ivory collar as if compelled.

  The hard material came alive in an instant. It coiled tighter, choking Ashera. Hal could feel some unknown force pushing against his intrusion. Ashera’s eyes went wide with fear as the ivory band tightened further, making her gasp for breath that would not come.

  Panicked, Hal pushed against the force choking her. Exerted his own will over it to loosen. The image that came to his mind was like that of boiled spaghetti, loose and limp.

  A prompt rolled up into the right corner of his vision.

  You have unlocked Mana Investiture.

  By focusing your Mana on a given object, you are capable of investing your Mana into the object to store, dominate, destroy, or alter its composition.

  MP Cost: Variable

  Casting Time: Instant

  Recast: Instant

  Hal mentally swiped away at the notification and it disappeared.

  He watched his MP plummet like a rock. Each second that ticked by saw another 2 points vanish. And with only 20 MP, he’d bottom out in seconds.

  Hal bent his focus back to the task at hand. That unknown force pushed back again but weaker. Tears leaked from Ashera’s eyes but she never pulled away nor broke eye contact.

  She looked at him with something disturbingly close to faith. Hal didn’t want any part of that, he didn’t understand why she trusted him. He was effectively killing her. And he didn’t even understand what he was doing enough to stop it.

  Eyes squeezed shut, Hal envisioned the ivory relaxing. The distinctly foreign force pressed against his mind like a migraine. Something drained out of him. Like the wind abruptly stopped filling his sails. Even with his eyes shut he could see the red warning flash and the empty bar of MP.

  Shirt.

  When Hal opened his eyes, he saw that Ashera had shut hers. She looked oddly peaceful. Calm.

  I wish I had your belief that I wasn’t about to strangle you to death by accident.

  He had never understood the phrase “dig deep,” it had always seemed like some weird jock-speak that boiled down to “try harder.” But at that moment, when Hal was scr
ambling and looking inside of himself for a shred of inner strength to shore up his weakness, he understood.

  Pressure built behind his eyes. Hal fought down the wave of nausea that washed over him. For a brief moment, he was sure he would fail.

  He was losing ground fast and Ashera’s pale features were growing a sickly shade of purple. And still, she did not cry out, did not pull away.

  More than anything, perhaps, it was that trust that made him reach inside for a solution. Any scrap at all that he could use to save this strange horned girl’s life, even if it meant ending his own.

  It was oddly freeing knowing he was going to die in a few hours. It made Hal reckless in a way he had always been too scared to be.

  What was the worst that could happen if he did everything in his power to save Ashera? If he freed her from the Founder’s influence but died in the process, what did it matter?

  If anything it gave Hal the power to choose his own time and manner of death rather than have it forced upon him by somebody else, as had always been the case.

  Just like every other thing in my dang life, he thought sourly.

  It was the only real power he had left.

  He reached deep within and felt the glowing coal of something long buried.

  Anger.

  Anger at his parents for forcing him to do things he hated. At himself for letting it happen. Even at life for its never-ending reminders of his failures. He stoked his anger and its fiery strength gave him new resolve.

  You have unlocked Assimilation.

  By redirecting the flow of vital energies, you are able to convert one resource (HP, MP, SP) for another at a reduced rate.

  Hal hardly noticed the prompt. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, his own unburied anger that roared to life into a bonfire of seething thoughts.