by B J Hanlon
They ate lunch and went over the words, the spells, and translations. Like he’d told Dorset with regards to the sword, everything needed to be perfect.
“Spells are a mixture of power words that can be said or thought and combined with one’s openness to the talent.”
“I thought mundane can use spells?”
“They can, you still need to open to the world’s energy. It’s a bit like opening a door during the deep heart of winter. You can let in the snow and the elements which may cause you harm or you can shut it out and stay safe. The real spot place is in between.”
“So spells can cause harm?”
“Of course. It was why this island was first inhabited,” Dorset said.
“Then what is the benefit of opening your door in winter?”
“Huh?” Dorset said, he seemed to be thinking about something, his mind going somewhere else for a moment. “Oh, well I suppose it isn’t the best analogy, but you can make water from snow.”
Over the next few hours, they went over the basics and Edin learned ‘Eletanto,’ a healing power word with no real translation. The best interpretation was ‘wipe my body clean.’ This brought back the image of the nurse washing his body with the sponge. Edin shivered.
While Dorset was doing something at his desk, Edin tried to heal a scratch from the bushes on his leg.
“It’s not working,” Edin said.
“What?”
“The healing spell… I’m trying it on my leg but…”
Dorset furrowed his brow and then laughed. “It takes much of yourself to heal another. It’d be like trying to tug yourself up a steep hill using only your body weight. Maybe try Gary…”
“I’m not going to cut my donkey,” Edin spat. “How about you?”
“No thanks, I’ve been beaten far too many times in my life.” Dorset looked away toward the window and Edin remembered his griping about Casitas.
They went over a half dozen more words, Edin’s pronunciation was terrible, the highborn alphabet had backward Es and Rs and dashes denoting syllables and the like.
Edin couldn’t get a growing spell to work on a small tomato plant despite the power word that sounded nearly identical to ‘Gross.’
“I’ll make dinner,” Dorset said and Edin realized it was far later in the day than he’d imagined.
After Dorset had left, Edin sat back down on the chair and pulled out the book.
Dorset set him to work at a different spell, an easier one. At least from Dorset’s point of view.
The ‘Hydration spell,’ spelt almost the same way in Ulstapish. It was meant to draw water out of the air and fill it in a cup. Edin grinned. He didn’t need that spell; he could do it with his talent, though he didn’t mention that to Dorset.
Edin ignored that one and went to the transmutation of water. Turning it into wine as the god Vipastio was said to have done when inventing the beverage.
With the trickling rain, the warm fire, and the comfortable chair, Edin began to tire. He hadn’t heard from Dorset in a while.
Edin drank from the tea glass and stood before the bay window. He could see for leagues. The horizon was dark and ominous and he could see gray fog rolling in like some monstrous beast. He felt uneasy. Soon the rain slowed and then stopped.
After a bit, he went back down the stairs. His mind was tired but his body was restless. He saw Dorset cooking and the two guards had rotated out and new ones were seated at their kitchen table downstairs.
“I’m going out,” Edin said. The guards looked to get up but he held them there with a hand. “I’m just going to work out my forms… it’s been too long.”
He took the sword and went into the wet world. Edin was out of sorts, some movements came back and others it took a few tries to get right.
Edin whirled the blade around near the edge of the cliffs. He leapt, slashed, and dived out of the way as he began feeling like the man he had been.
Dorset called for dinner, a stewed pork, which they ate with the two guards and afterwards, Edin fell asleep in his bed.
The next morning, Dorset left for the city, he had a class to teach. They’d trained a little in the morning, but Dorset was again exhausted. “Try to get practice swords,” Edin said as his roommate left.
Two new guards appeared in the night to relieve the others. Edin found a broom handle and held it out. He remembered hitting himself with it the first time he’d tried this.
Soon, he had his altered sword and stick form moving again.
After he sweated, Edin pulled himself up to the sanctum and pulled down a book from the shelf. He knew he should be practicing spellcraft. He hadn’t gotten a single spell to work…
Instead of practicing, he found ‘Histories and Legends.’
The text started at the beginning, when Losilin and his wise brother Estoolin were birthed by the Ancient One. A nameless, faceless being, the god of gods. He read an alternative story on Losilin’s wife, Cleor, a former mortal turned goddess and the woman whom the Vestion portrayed as a witch of the wilds. A temptress a harlot and the reason for abominations walking the world. This story however showed her as peaceful and loving mother of Vestor, the first mage.
Some footnoting stated they were unsure if Vestor was actually the son of the two gods but offered no alternative theory.
Vestor the Profit lived in a time before the relatively peaceful world. Before Bestoria. When the world was a dangerous place and monsters roamed. He united warring tribal parties to fight back the beasts such as dragons, wyverns, giants, and numerous other vile creatures.
He supposedly died before the time of the kings of Bestoria, but was made a god.
The first king was his grandson. A bit of a womanizer and through him, the talent spread and flourished for generations under the magi. Slowly however, the kings and queens of Bestoria became involved in treachery, violence, and infighting. The monarchs grew ruthless and tyrannical. The author seemed to be of mind that there were uprisings to protest and these just added fuel to the fire. A saying as old as the book.
Edin rubbed his eyes and absentmindedly flipped through pages to the last king of Bestoria. Alcor Bestavienne. It was written by an anonymous historian calling himself only ‘Percep.’
Alcor was a difficult and ruthless king. I was not there when he ascended the throne by way of his father’s death. The man was old but some said he was murdered. A page was held responsible for the former king’s death was hung, drawn and quartered, and then burned. Some think he was innocent. Alcor was known to have a predisposition to believe treasonous men were all around him. Many disappeared.
We found out later that the rumors of the secret society of anti-magi conspirators were true. Men and women who possessed the talent disappeared, some blamed it on Alcor and he did not deny it. The reason could only be deduced by guess work, and my theory is that it made more people fear him.
The society called themselves Por Fen, a saying in a certain dialect that translates to ‘God Sent.’ This group, and their ideas had infiltrated many aspects of government and nobility. Mundane peoples began to see the difficulty wrought on them by their magi rulers. Not helped by Alcor’s violence. The Por Fen likened themselves to wasps, small and weak by themselves, though in large enough numbers, they could destroy a much larger and stronger beast. Slowly, the church began to change, subtly. Internally at first. I was in a service one day when the priest stated that powers beyond that of normal man were a curse and not a gift. The abominable talent was given to the world by the wicked goddess Cleor. I was shocked, but others in the congregation nodded. I am no magi, nor am I noble but this was my first introduction to the darkening world.
Edin looked up and saw the fog back. It nestled the water like a bed of brown leaves that hugged the grass. In the distance, he could feel another storm coming. He could feel the electricity, the power of faraway clouds.
Edin sighed and stretched. His leg had fallen asleep as he made his way down to the kitchen for tea. He wa
s bored and still didn’t wish to practice any more of the spellcraft. Despite the approaching fog, overhead the sun shone brightly and the salty air was cool through the partially opened window.
Soon, he found himself outside and walking the cliffs. The two guards had fallen asleep in the shade of the tower and didn’t even know he’d left.
Brackland rose in small hills and fell to long flat fields. There were patches of trees overlooking coves and peninsulas, though none as long or as deep as the Reaches. The drop was between ten and twenty yards to wave-battered rocks and white water.
The small colonnade of trees grew into row upon row of trees. Some the height of a ten-story building, oaks, redwoods, maples grander than any he’d ever seen.
Somewhere off in the distance he heard the sawing and chopping of a lumber camp. Birds darted in and out of the trees, fluttering into the branches or squawking. The air felt cooler beneath the surging tree branches high above.
The forest, if it could be called that, ended abruptly with the onset of rolling meadows. He followed the coast up and down looking out to the northern sea and back inland for any sign of the ranchers. Ahead, he saw the volcano rising. The windward side of its near vertical slope was weather beaten and delved nearly straight down into the dark blue sea. It was like a shield on the city’s back.
Edin stared up at it, barely seeing the snow-covered peak in the thin cloud layer. A few minutes later, Edin heard the pounding of hooves inland and glanced over his shoulder. In the distance three men were crossing a circular depression riding in his general direction. They began shouting a single word, a name maybe. It wasn’t his. One pointed toward the general direction of what he guessed was the lumberyard and Edin spotted something moving against the waving grass.
It took a moment before he realized it was a small white animal, a goat or calf maybe.
Turning back toward the mountain, he took a breath. The giant slopes were still a hundred yards away across a large, dark blue bay. He stared for a few minutes when something caught his eye near the waterline.
Movement near a spot where water met the stone. Figures in dark robes stepping out into the light from behind a rock wall. There were two of them and they carried a brown sack.
Edin crouched and watched them take hold of the ends. The middle slumped into a U. They began swinging it back and forth then they let it go. Something pulled free of the sack like it suddenly sprouted a white branch.
He swallowed when he realized what it was. An arm. The bag hit the water with a sudden splash and began to sink. The fingers, pointed straight up like the mast of a ship sinking at sea.
Edin stared at the spot until it was swallowed by the sea.
It was a body and there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say. They’d killed someone… the Brosons…
How many men had I killed? “Foristol,” he whispered as he stared into the depths.
Then he noticed something else, a shadow like form heading toward the body. Edin glanced up, looking for whatever made it, but the sky was clear.
He looked back down and spotted it again. Long and slender and darker than the water. The waves parted as it breached and a sheen of black skin cut across. Then it dove where the body had gone under.
He noticed his breathing had become very rapid and he felt sweat on his palms and brow. His body knew what happened, but his mind was still lagging behind. Did that really just happen? Did something just take the body?
Edin felt stiff, he couldn’t move. There was something hunting these waters. Something big.
After a long time, he noticed the brosons were gone and saw only a small sliver of flat gray stone where they had been. Almost like a natural dock.
A wave smashed against it spewing thick globs of white spittle up into the air. Where did they come from?
9
The Breaking
Edin cut back through the isle. He climbed small fences and rounded large herds of cattle, goats, and pens of chickens. He saw a few ranchers, though they paid him no real attention. His thoughts were still on the body. Edin had one guess who’s body it was. The assassin. The Mireshka.
Soon, he found himself on the steps of Baili’s and thirsted for a drink. It was still work hours so the place was quiet.
Edin stepped up to the bar and heard shuffling in the back. “Hello?” Edin called out.
She appeared, sweat on her brow and full of some sort of dusting.
“Edin, haven’t seen you in a while… sorry I’m just moving some barley and rye. Have to get the next batch of ale brewing.”
“You brew it yourself?”
She smiled, “of course, did you think we import it from mainland?” She paused and pulled a mug of ale. “You haven’t tried any, have you?”
“No, I guess not.”
He sipped. It was a good dark ale, there was a nutty flavor to it with very little bitterness. He grinned. “That’s good.”
“I know. So what can I do you for?”
“Well I was going to try and buy a bottle of whiskey…”
“You have chits?”
“No, but I have coin…”
She looked at him suspiciously, “don’t show me. Help me move some barrels and bags downstairs and I’ll give you a bottle, and maybe a small barrel of ale.” She winked at him. “Then we’ll see where it goes.”
Edin worked with her for the better part of two hours, he was sweaty and his back grew sore, but it felt good. He was doing something. Baili served him whiskey and watched him very closely. ‘To make sure you put everything in the right place.’ She said.
He took off his sweat-stained shirt and she gasped. He knew his body looked like it’d been mauled by a crillio cat, though that was only three of the scars. She asked and he gave brief accounts of them.
As he was finishing moving the last barrel of ale to the small pulley elevator that raised it to the bar, he heard people coming in.
“Customers. Will you be staying for a while? Drinks are on the house tonight,” Baili said.
“Another time. But I could use that whiskey.”
She gave it to him and the small barrel that fit under his arm. As he left, she stopped him and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t be a stranger, you’ve got friends here.”
Edin nearly laughed and thought maybe he did.
As he crested the hill leading down toward the tower and home, he saw a single horse hitched to the post and the two guards standing outside. Awake from their nap.
“Sir, where did you go?” One said. “You were not to leave.”
“I’m not under arrest correct. Then I can leave if I want…” Edin said and adjusted the barrel beneath his arm. “I just picked up some essentials…” He looked at the horse. “Whose is that?”
“A visitor,” the man said.
Inside, was a small form standing before the window looking out toward the sea.
“You weren’t here, so I let myself in.” It was a voice he didn’t expect but his heart jumped just the same.
“Arianne.”
She turned toward him and crossed her arms. There was an almost pitying look on her face. “You look terrible… where have you been?”
Edin put down the alcohol and crossed his arms to mimic her and walked to the table. “I don’t answer to you.”
In the quick glimpse he got of her, he noticed she was looking like a real royal. Her flowing blond hair was braided in parts and showered down past her shoulders in others. Her clothes, including the still present soft blue cape with a gold broach looked like they were brand new. “You look nice…” He sighed.
Arianne blushed slightly and looked away, it seemed as though she was trying to smile but was working hard to do so. “I heard about what you did.”
“They’re still claiming I started the riot?” Edin snorted. “Dishonorable scum.”
Her lips pursed, “I was talking about Cannopina. She’s rather entranced by the heroics. I hear Belo is going to throw a ball in your honor.”
“Why?” Arianne walked over toward him and put a hand on his arm.
Edin wanted nothing more than to kiss her but pulled back. “I’m not going to be an easy target for someone else to try and kill me,” Edin said.
She looked at him curiously, an almost blank look over her face. Then her mouth opened.
“Did you know about that?” Edin asked. “Did you know I was jailed, left in darkness and a woman, Mireshka probably, tried to kill me.”
She shook her head vigorously. “The FAE wouldn’t allow it, Casitas wouldn’t.”
“You cannot be that blind,” Edin snorted and pulled away. “And don’t talk to me about your boyfriend.”
“He’s a good man Edin, he holds sway and his father is head of the council…” She didn’t deny that Casitas was her boyfriend. His family was in charge, they held the power that she wanted.
Now he knew that was all she wanted. A means to get to where she thought she should be. And Edin was those means on the mainland. Again here, he was a pariah due to his birth.
“Suppose I shouldn’t expect anything less. Did you hop into his bed the first night or did you need to be pampered first? How many chits did he give you? Ten, twenty, or are you higher class, you need gold.”
“You blotard… asshole,” Arianne gasped then her face twisted to rage. “You dare to think-”
Fury rose in him. “I don’t think, you told me. You’re a princess, inclined to a life of luxury. One of choosing things over people, power over love. You sit there with your new clothes, that hair… your fingernails painted… you have nothing in there.” He pointed to her chest. “You are selfish.”
She pulled her shoulders back and looked down her nose at him. “You think what you want of me… you have no idea about my life, my struggles and problems. You see only yourself.” Tears were beginning to form in her eyes.
“I hope you two are unhappy,” Edin said and started marching toward the stairs. Behind he heard her footsteps. She grabbed his arm to stop him but he yanked it away.