by BJ Hanlon
An idea formed in his head as a smile came to his face. This could be fun. He thought and closed his eyes. Edin concentrated on the furthest one and its flame. He took a breath and aimed a hand toward it and a moment later, felt the fire slip out of existence.
Edin looked around the corner and saw the men didn’t seem to have noticed it. He began to feel that his time was running short. He followed the same pattern and whipped out the next flame, then the next.
Then one of them yelped like a dog whose tail had been pulled by a wild two-year-old.
“You see that?” He gasped.
He felt the next flicker out of existence. Edin opened his eyes and looked around the corner. The two Por Fen were staring the other way.
“How did… there’s no wind.”
Edin watched as they looked at each other and then slowly began to turn his way. He felt the last flame. It tickled his brain for a moment then it exploded into a giant ball of fire.
There was a rush of air and screams. Edin raced around the corner and caught only the last glimpse of light.
Then everything was black.
Edin swung a fist in the last place he remembered seeing the loser Por Fen. He felt it connect with flesh and heard a grunt. Then, in a flash like lightning, he lit a small ethereal orb. He saw the other man, the winner and let it disappear. Then he threw a kick toward him. Another grunt and yelp and a moment later, the table slid across the floor and the coins clattered to the ground rolling and spinning and making a whole lot of noise.
He lit another ethereal orb, saw the first guy getting up, spun back, kicked him in the face and let the orb disappear.
Then he backed up a few feet, feeling coins beneath his boots. He summoned a last one, saw the other Por Fen getting up, but he was facing the left and he held a knife in his hand. Edin tossed the orb toward the man and made it explode in a bright light just before his face.
He screamed and tried covering his eyes.
Edin followed the orb and leapt. He kicked out and caught the guy in the chest with his heel and the man flew backward.
Edin landed and dropped to a knee and summoned a, hopefully final, ethereal ball.
He was right; the two men were unmoving on the ground. Edin stood, holding the ethereal orb and looked toward the door next to him. Standing there with his hands on the bars and mouth gaping was Berka.
Edin felt relief flow over him. “Are you okay buddy?” He gasped and reached for the handle. He tried it but it was locked. Of course it was.
“Yeah,” Berka said his words long and slow as if he’d been drugged.
Edin pulled out the picking key and wiggled it around for about twenty seconds before the door popped open. “Come on, we have to—”
“It was like you were jumping between spots without ever going from one to the other.” He started to snort, the beginnings of one of his loud laughs.
“Quiet,” Edin said and grabbed Berka’s shoulder and pulled him toward the back stairs. “No time.” Edin nearly had to push him for the first five or so steps before he snapped out of it and they began down. At the bottom, the light from the still-lit sconces let him release the ethereal orb and they ran down the hall. Ten seconds later, they were back in the courtyard.
Edin nearly skidded to a halt when he saw that all of the Por Fen monks were missing. “Blast it.” He should’ve tied them up. But he couldn’t stand around, he ran after the ginger lad.
“What?” Berka said as they reached the gate, then he flipped a small switch near the wall. There was a clicking and the door swung open. “They have these on all Por Fen walls. Ease of access.”
They burst into the street. To the left about a hundred yards was the castle and just in front of them and across a large open square stood the library. Edin thought about the historian, for a moment but then pushed it from his head.
“The inn,” Edin said. “We need our gear before we get out of the city.”
Berka started jogging. For a man that’d been in prison for a day he moved pretty well.
The streets were still damp and there were few people out. A tavern just off of Elleir Street seemed rowdy with singing and string instruments being offered up through open windows. There were cheers and the pounding of feet as people danced. It was as if the dematian threat was fake. As if it were some hysteria perpetrated by the nobles and a lying media.
Edin spotted something further down the street. The small garden from the first night he’d jumped, or more accurately was flung, over the wall. Edin again thought of the old guard Foristol that he’d killed. The one man who’d helped him when he was in need.
He felt guilty and sad but knew he’d had no choice in the moment. Edin gritted his teeth and looked away before turning to the north.
They ran a few more blocks and then Berka showed him the inn. Edin didn’t even remember to look at the name or location when he’d left that day.
They went inside and pushed through a great many people and toward their rooms. Edin didn’t have a key, except he did, the one he’d gotten from Yassima. Edin tried it and again it worked. Somehow that thief got a master key to Carrow. He opened the door and saw his things as he’d left them. Dorset’s stuff was gone however, and there was a note on the small stand near the water basin.
“Passage set for tomorrow at dawn aboard the Evening Rambler. Foci welcomed. Moved to Waterhog Inn.”
“What is a Waterhog?” Edin asked the empty room then pushed the question from his head. It didn’t matter.
Berka appeared behind him carrying his own pack and his greatsword. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s hope so.” Edin grabbed his things and nodded. Did he go to the inn or try to escape the city? How would he get out? How would he close the tunnel entrance?
He wouldn’t dare go back to the Raven’s place. The Por Fen knew of it and would be searching. The worst part, Edin thought, was that she had the explosives.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinking,” Edin said realizing he hadn’t moved.
“Do it quicker,” Berka admonished. “We cannot stay here. Though I didn’t tell them about the inn, I’m sure they know. And I’m sure they know about our friends.”
Edin pursed his lips. He agreed, but he needed to destroy the tunnel that the dematians were using to get into Dunbilston. “Ready.”
A minute later they were back on the street and walking toward the ocean. Far ahead, he saw the wooden docks and cranes that were used to lift goods up from ships.
“Shouldn’t we be heading out of the city? I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to swim in the ocean.”
But Edin wasn’t listening. He was looking ahead at the docks. There were only a few lifts still moving at this time of the night. Burly armed porters pushing or pulling wagons and wheelbarrows emerged from the elevator and instantly they spread out like a splash from a single raindrop. They disappeared minutes later heading up and down city roads toward their destinations.
Other men were hanging about as well, though they were near the few taverns. Drunks mostly, loud and seemingly having a good time despite the impending dematian threat. There were guards standing near the railings and he assumed their job was to prevent some of the drunks from tipping over the edge and meeting their maker.
He spotted stairs down and headed for them. Edin needed help, if he could get it. Rihkar maybe, but he was older and weak. Maybe it was the one arm, maybe it was from all of those months surviving on rats and being alone looking for the Rage Stone. It probably didn’t feel great when he found out it where it had been.
He knew Dorset wanted to get back to Canno and wouldn’t miss the ship. Then he remembered how Cannopina was in tears on the dock as Dorset shipped off to help his friend. The young bride had shuddered with sobs. She’d lost her father and now her husband was leaving.
Those explosives. He thought, that was their only chance.
They descended the stairs and waded through the much more crowded Lowtown. He f
ound the Waterhog and saw the line out the door and around the corner. It didn’t look like anyone was getting in. Edin turned back and looked at the ships down below. Which was the Evening Rambler? And what did that even mean?
“Doesn’t look like we’re getting in,” Berka said.
“The ginger genius.”
Berka slugged him in the shoulder.
“Berkey?” A soft voice came up over the rabble. They both turned and Berka lit up like a tree aflame. A very red flame.
He ran to El nearly barreling a couple of people over. El threw her arms around him, and they kissed. Edin swallowed. Another friend with someone special. He knew he should be happy but there was an emptiness in his gut. A vacant place where his joy should be.
Edin didn’t know what El and her family were planning on doing, but he figured Berka would want to be part of that. They’d want to have hope and be together.
Edin would if Arianne were here, but Arianne would want to fight by his side. She was the one who wouldn’t leave him. The one who’d stay until the job was done or she was dea—
He stopped the thought, shook his head and turned away. Seeing these two together, Edin knew he’d have to go alone. He’d figure out what to do about the cave and the dematians by himself. Maybe the Raven had gotten word to Sinndilo, if Sinndilo was still in charge, then the duke could send help. Maybe a troupe of city guard could join— Someone in the guard. Yes that was it. What was Ashtol’s cousin’s name? Did the man even tell him?
It would be risky and who knew if the guard captain would believe him or if he’d try and slay Edin on the spot when he found out he was a mage. And another question, did he know where the explosives were kept?
It was all straining his head as he started to slip away.
“Edin?” He turned and saw Dorset. He slowly moved toward him, avoiding a couple of creepy looking men, late teens or early twenties. They wore spectacles, clothes that were too tight, and had beards and earrings. Beneath a rolled-up cuff on one, Edin spotted a tattoo.
“Is everything set for your departure?”
Dorset nodded. “Suuli saw you here. He wanted you to come to him.”
“Me? Why?”
Dorset shrugged. “He’s in my room, beyond this cluster of human refuse.”
An old woman heard him and glared. She had one lazy green eye and few teeth. They skirted around to the side of the building and up an outer staircase that was guarded by a thick built man with dark skin. He looked like Kanti from Frestils in that light.
If there were many more battles like the last, Edin guessed that man would be drafted into the army. Probably a second or twelfth stint by the looks of him.
Up the stairs, they entered a side door and a long and narrow hall made narrower by people hanging out against the walls and glaring.
Dorset opened a door to a small room with Suuli lying on the bed, the formerly sick Foci Dun Bornu woman at his side and Henny and Rihkar on two chairs.
Suuli looked up and his eyes twinkled, though they seemed foggy. The old seer raised his hand and motioned for Edin to come closer. Edin did. He could feel the hot breath and nearly taste the smell. The man smelled horrible, almost like death.
When he was only inches away, Suuli spoke. It was in his tongue and for a moment Edin couldn’t understand. They didn’t speak the same language after all.
But then he did. Somehow the words were being translated in his ear or in his head. “The loss of her moves you, but she is not gone. She is being held.”
Edin’s mouth dropped. He felt as if he’d just taken a hammer to the temple. Then his mind worked a bit. “Held? Held by who? Where?” He spoke fast but Suuli’s eyes were glazed and he didn’t seem to be hearing or seeing Edin.
Then the old man said, “you must follow your path. You are destined to defend man against the ones desiring to overthrow them. You must steel yourself for loss.”
Then Suuli’s eyes shut like a guillotine and his head fell back into his pillow.
“Suuli?” Edin said. The old man answered with a snore. What did he mean?
“What the heck?” Dorset said.
“My gods,” Rihkar said apparently able to understand as well. “What does that mean? Are you really meant to save the world?”
Edin’s tongue felt tied. Almost literally. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t think. He was already following some stupid prophecy, at least he thought so. The path Suuli had said.
Which path: destroying the tunnel entrance or recruiting the elves or both? What about finding the last of the Ballast Stones? Was that a path as well?
Edin groaned. His head was hurting.
“What?”
It took him a moment to remember that other people were around. He blinked and looked at Rihkar and Dorset, both staring at him dumbfounded. Probably as dumbfounded as he felt. And probably just as confused.
Edin tried to force a smile as he looked at Rihkar. It felt like a good fake. “I gotta go.” Edin said still confused. “Good luck. Hopefully Casitas isn’t as stubborn a blotard as I remember him.”
He turned to leave.
A chair scrapped the floor. “Edin, wait,” Rihkar said snatching his shoulder. “What did he mean? Where are you going?”
“To close the tunnel, then I do what I promised. I have to recruit the elves.”
“Then what? Where do we meet, how do we communicate? It could be months.” Then he corrected himself. “It will be months before we see you. Where do we go?”
Edin shrugged. “How the heck should I know? Do you think I’ve got some magic jar that I rub and it tells me what to do and when to do it? Or maybe a coin, I flip it and follow its superb guidance.” Edin looked at Rihkar then Henny and Dorset. “Maybe Suuli can help when he wakes.”
Dorset shook his head and in a regretful, somber tone said. “I don’t think he will.”
Edin looked back at the old seer again. The man looked to be at peace, there was a sereneness to him, a look of someone who’d never worry about a thing.
“If he does, tell him I’m sorry about Fokill and Yechill.” Edin reached out and put his hand on the old mans. It felt cold. “I have to go.” He paused, “I wish I had your guys’ talent.”
“I’m coming.” Dorset stated. There was a gravitas to his words that felt different. Strong and proud and so unlike the Dorset he’d first met.
“No, you have to go to the Isle of Mists.”
“It’s not mists anymore. Besides, Rihkar and Henny can convince the Praesidium.”
“What about Canno?”
“I’ll take another ship. She would not wish me to step out of the fight.” He looked at Edin. “There are many more Suulis out there, many more who’d be slaughtered. I’m doing this Edin. I will do what I can and not leave until I’m done.”
Edin nodded. “Get your things.” He was still holding the old man’s hand and saw the cloak that still hung from his shoulders.
It was warm and perfect for any time in the world outside human-made walls, but it was the Foci’s. Edin took it off and laid it on the seer. “Thank you, Suuli.” His eyes grew moist and he turned from the old man.
7
The Seer’s Last Sight
Berka caught up to Edin as he exited.
“I’m coming with you,” he said though he didn’t know where. There were no questions from him or from El about anything, and Edin was in a hurry.
But they took their sweet time. They kissed and held hands like they’d never see each other again. Maybe they wouldn’t.
Edin pushed the negative thought from his head. Yes, they would. No one would die. Then he thought of Horston, of Mersett, and now Suuli. He thought of all of the magi killed in the Reaches.
So many deaths, so many more would come.
Then he wondered how could anyone from Delrot would want to help after that? Maybe they would simply let the dematians burn the entirety of Bestoria?
Hopefully the prodigal son, Rihkar, could convince enough of them to hel
p.
“Are you finished?” Edin said and Berka and El broke apart. He turned and followed the roads and they were quiet as they walked through the underground. Edin took Rihkar’s much thinner but still warm cloak. A good thing about it was it was normal looking. The white cloak stuck out like a rose in a bed of pine needles.
They passed a few buildings and saw some of the homeless and ruffians staring at them. None made any move to attack though and it was probable very few could still do so.
Edin held the signet ring in his hand as they headed toward the nearest stairs to the upper levels. It was a thin stair and rarely used according to the Waterhog’s innkeeper. It came out only a few blocks from the northern gate. The closer to the gate the better. Edin just hoped the duke’s cousin was still there.
They waited for a few moments at the base of the stairs then Dorset went up first. He was the only one that hadn’t been in the Por Fen’s custody and was maybe a bit less conspicuous.
As Edin was looking around in the underground world, he saw a face. It was half lit and half shadowed but it looked familiar. Edin stared for a few moments trying to figure out who the man was or who he looked like when he heard Dorset whisper, “Come on.”
Edin turned and then jogged up the stairs, his sword clapped against his leg. He and Berka emerged next to Dorset on the damp stone street. Edin crouched and stared out at the soggy world.
A bit less than a hundred yards away was the gate with covered torches flanking it. They waited for a few minutes, just watching the exit, but they saw no guards down there.
However on the walls there were. Edin could see them and remembered his attempt at breaking into the city. He thought of the chase over the rooftops and absently rubbed his stomach.
“Are we ready?”
Edin saw his two friends staring at him expectantly and nodded.
Berka went first. He had his hand over his shoulder and tickling the hilt of his greatsword. Dorset moved next, his longsword, a bit like Edin’s sans the magical properties, was drawn. Hopefully they didn’t need them.