“Enosh,” he would say, the way he had said it for so many years before his death. “You don’t aim half-heartedly. You throw true and then you live with the consequences. As my son…”
My son, Meirosh had said, the nuances clear in his honeyed voice, because the man did nothing that was not calculated. Even the woman he had brought back with him from Baidh—tall, ruddy-haired Soshain, who had as much of Meirosh’s wit as his courage—had been a political statement of sorts. Enosh wasn’t sure what, exactly. He only knew that Meirosh’s first wife had gone to meet Meirosh in Baidh, where she died giving birth, and that Meirosh and Soshain returned to Agantuan together with Enosh as an infant.
Soshain was the only mother he knew. She had been better than most, but even she could not protect him from Meirosh’s tongue. “My son does not beg,” he’d say. “He does not sit there and scratch his head like an ape, either. You are a prince of Gorent. Is it so hard to remember such miniscule details?”
If Enosh tried hard enough, he could see him now, sitting cross-legged by the window of their hut, a book on his lap. “You need to know. Books are often lost. There is nothing more reliable than your own mind. What are you looking at now, child? You treat my voice like the buzzing of a fly by your ear.”
“The coral-rose flowers are in bloom, Father.”
Meirosh had glanced out for a moment, his stern face softening. But just for a moment; he soon returned to turn a page on his book. “If you will grow up to be the man who will retake our lands from the Dageians and become High King of the Gorenten, you need to know these things.”
A prince of Gorent. Not an ape. He smiled now, recalling those words from long ago, the gravity of the memory stronger than a woman’s slap or Yn Garr’s cane (his father had never hit him, would have never dared). Was he truly so gifted as to fulfill his father’s dreams, or was it only because he was the man’s son that he had thought him more than capable? Didn’t most men think their sons farted perfume and shat jewels, anyway?
He heard the screech in the darkness and forced himself out of the crevice, even as his head throbbed. Ever since it had swallowed the dragon and grown its stunted set of wings, the abomination had difficulties navigating through the dark tunnels, but he didn’t want to take chances. He found his sword by his foot. The weight of it was comforting.
Hold steady, Enosh, he told himself, taking a deep breath. Consequences. Just get out of here and figure the rest out. He steadied himself and allowed a flicker of agan-fire to touch his sword. It was the most he could do under such circumstances.
It saw the light almost as soon as it appeared. He heard its claws scrape the tunnel walls and swore. It lunged. He lifted his sword. “Hold!” he screamed. “Your master commands it!”
He heard the layered, higher-pitched voice that penetrated his thoughts. Listen to you? Why should I do that?
“Because we’ve been through this. You can’t hurt me,” he said out loud, hoping it was true.
Not the way I hurt others, it said. But I can rip you apart just as easily.
Enosh smiled, watching as it stopped a few feet from him. Despite its arrogance, he could sense caution in the creature. If he timed this right, he could use it to his advantage. He noted the lump of flesh that connected the dragon to the rest of its misshapen body. The shade was different. Yn Garr had assured him it would take years before it assimilated itself; if he could somehow remove it, he might be able to salvage Jaeth’s Eye from the body. He knew Yn Garr wouldn’t approve, but it wasn’t the old man putting himself at risk to work with the creature. It was easier to work with before it had swallowed the dragon.
He angled the sword and became aware of his own breathing. The creature hissed, its jaws snapping. He jumped back. The tunnel was too narrow for him to do much else, but that also made it difficult for the creature to strike him. He turned, hoping the tunnels behind him were wider.
Or has a surface exit. But the only exit he knew lay behind the creature and his attempts to get around it had been futile so far. A stone slipped under his boot and he fell. Before the creature could come on top of him, he turned and with his every link to the agan, summoned a wall to stop it. He was only an enchanter—he avoided using protection spells because he had always been bad at them—but at that moment, he didn’t care if the act killed him. Yn Garr could shove a pickaxe up his rectum and find himself a new apprentice. Wasn’t he always threatening to, anyway?
He felt the wall crackle as the creature rammed against it. Around him, rivers of agan opened and he felt himself slip through.
“Old man,” the little girl said, staring at him with eyes the colour of steel. “You’ve been careless.”
Enosh looked around him. They were sitting at the edge of a stream, overlooking a small waterfall. A single red tree stood on top of the hill above them.
“Who are you?”
“You know there are schools in Dageis and Gaspar built to teach mages not to do what you just did?”
“Since I’ve never been invited to any of them, you’ll have to forgive my ignorance.”
The little girl frowned at him. She had a small, pointed chin that accentuated the expression. “You ought to know better. There is a reason not everyone can link to the agan. You know in Jin-Sayeng, people like you are fed to the fishes?”
“That’s not true.”
“It is,” she insisted, stomping her foot. “There is a desert over Jin-Sayeng. That’s why the dragons don’t come anymore.”
“How come I haven’t heard of this drought? Last I checked, Lake Watu is still there.”
“You really are an idiot. I don’t mean there, I meant here. It’s a desert void of agan. The dragons over there know. They feed on agan to survive. That’s why they grow so big.”
He glanced at the stream beside them. It had a faint, bluish glow above the surface. The girl nudged his elbow. “Go ahead,” she said. “Touch it.”
He stepped on the edge of the bank and dipped his hand. The substance didn’t feel like water, but it was ice-cold. The sensation was uncomfortable, and he pulled his hand up. Without thinking about it, he touched his left eye before turning to the girl. “Am I dead?” he asked.
“That’s the problem,” she replied. “You’re not.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me. So what happens now?”
“Your soul wanders this world without purpose.”
His face fell. “You could’ve told me that from the beginning.”
She ignored him. “If your body dies, things will progress as they should. But then again, if it does not, your body will be open for invasion by another. Another soul could enter it. Or an evil spirit. Your body, with its connection to the agan, could wreak unforetold havoc into the world.”
Enosh sighed before breaking into nervous laughter. The girl’s frown grew deeper. “This isn’t supposed to be funny.”
“I’m sorry. What do you want me to do about it? If my body isn’t dead, it will be soon. That thing that was chasing me wasn’t about to ask me over for tea and crumpets.” He sat down, rubbing his elbow. He didn’t feel like a spirit at all. “Might be for the best, anyway,” he said, after a moment. “His problem, now.”
He felt her move behind him and touch his shoulder. Her hands were as cold as the stream. The sensation made him jerk back. She smiled. “You are still alive.” He noticed, for the first time, the glow of agan in her eyes.
“Do you know what’s happening out there?”
“No. But you’re definitely alive.” She pulled back, her hands weaving through a thin, blue strand that drifted like smoke over him. “You see this? It’s a connection to your body. There are others. This is a connection to another out there, a living person.” She lifted the strand, allowing it to stream through her fingers. “It is new,” she added after a moment. She sounded mystified.
“I don’t understand.”
“Something with a connection as strong to the agan as what you have has just—just now—
established one with you. It is possible that it is this thing keeping you alive. If this is true, I can help you.” She took his hand and pointed to the hill. “If you jump from the falls, you might create a rip big enough to go back to the world again. Because we haven’t travelled far, you’ll be propelled back to your body.”
“Hopefully just not in time for that thing to shred me to pieces.”
She smiled. “You’re taking this in pretty well.”
“This isn’t exactly the worst thing that’s happened to me.” They had reached the top of the hill. Enosh looked at the blue spray of agan underneath them. “So it’s all about connections, isn’t it?”
She nodded.
“You didn’t answer my question. Who are you? Why are you here with me?”
She glanced away. After a pause, she said, “He’s convinced you’re Myar. I came to check…to see if he’s right.” She smiled. “You’re not. You dislike horses, don’t you?”
Enosh snorted. “With all my heart.”
“Then—goodbye.” She pressed her hands against him and pushed. Before it all closed in over him, he saw her little face staring back, golden hair folding with the wind.
The shield-spell was still up when Enosh felt himself return to his body. It flashed. The strength of it lit the tunnel walls, as if it was on fire, and repelled the creature backwards. He grabbed his sword from the ground and rushed to the side.
Its claw went out and missed him, just as he clambered up the narrow opening. Out in the sun, he turned around and slammed the tunnel gate shut. It was designed for humans, not big enough for the creature to get through, but he felt relief as soon as he slid the bolt and uttered a quick sealing-spell.
Panting, he tried to gather his thoughts. “Sir,” someone called up from behind him. “You were down there too long. We thought we’d lost you, sir.”
He turned to look into Ranias’ panicked face and realized that his other eye could see. It was blurry, and the muscles still hurt to move, but his blindness was gone.
“I need water,” he gasped. After hours in the musty darkness, the clean air felt good to his lungs.
“What happened down there?” Ranias asked, throwing him a flask.
He drank before he replied. “That thing’s becoming a bloody bastard to deal with. Start preparations. We need to head back to camp. I have no intention of spending the night out here.” He wiped his lips with his sleeve and looked up at the sky.
Someone with a connection as strong... he thought. Ke-if? But no. His brother was blind to the agan. Their father knew it, which was why the burden of this fell on him alone. He had no other living relative in the world.
He saw Ranias returning with his horse and swore under his breath. Ranias chuckled. “Really, sir? I haven’t seen a more placid animal than good old Sage here.”
“I’ve seen honey flow faster than good old Sage. Once this is all over, I need you to take her to a sausage factory because clearly that was where her last owner intended her to go.”
“I don’t think they have sausage factories in Gaspar.” Ranias looked thoughtfully at the sky.
He narrowed his eyes. “Rafias…”
“Ranias, sir.”
“Never mind.” He tugged his gloves off the mare’s saddle to put them on. The warmth felt good after all those hours in the damp tunnel.
“So you’re still alive,” he heard someone say behind him. “Pity. I was so sure it ripped you in half. I was about to organize a feast in your honour.”
“Sapphire,” he said, forcing a smile on his face before he turned around to meet her. “How thoughtful of you, finding time to crawl out of your hole of a room to check up on me. As you can see, my dear, I’m just as handsome as ever. Is that a gift you bring?”
The black-haired woman walked past him and towards the tunnel gates. There was a scroll in her hands. She unrolled it and pressed it against the lock. Light spread over her hands, and when she pulled away, the lock remained on the surface.
Enosh laughed. “You needn’t bother. I did that as soon as I got out.”
“I saw. You didn’t do it correctly.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t know who taught you to channel agan, but whoever it was must have at least told you not to fling a seal-spell the way a monkey throws feces at a wall.”
He felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “I’m aware that my technique lacks the neat subtleties taught by the best in Enji, but I’ve been doing this for many years now. My awkward seals have worked just fine.”
She snorted. “It’s escaped before.”
“It has. I’ve also brought it back, each time.”
“You treat it like an animal. It’s not a pet.”
“You’re right. We should’ve named it by now. I can rectify that. How does Giggles sound?”
She pushed her spectacles up and glared at him. “This isn’t a joke.”
“You have to forgive me. After almost getting ripped apart, I’m in dire need of humour right now. I didn’t see you or your skilled agan-weaving in there with me.” He drank again, wiped his lips, and stepped into a stirrup. Old Sage began to walk forward before he could swing his other leg over.
“Do you need help?” she asked, watching him. He could swear he saw the shadow of a smirk on the corner of her face.
“Forgive me if I don’t offer you a ride, my lady.” He managed to pull himself into the saddle and saw Ranias looking at him from behind a tree. “If you do find that sausage factory,” he said as he passed by, “sell the mage, too.”
“Fucking Agartes, boss,” Ranias replied. “They wouldn’t take her.”
“And why not?”
“She’d be too fucking gamey.”
There was still enough light left for them to make the long ride back to the main camp. Exhaustion gripped Enosh. He allowed his horse to lag—not that it required any effort whatsoever—and found his thoughts turning towards the creature. After half a year of failed attempts and near-misses, he was able to return it to the tunnels that served as its cage. Yet he felt no relief at all. That feeling of dread, the one that had been growing inside him since he had first set eyes on the thing, was engulfing him again. Nothing he had done since could shake it off.
It had been so small, back when he first laid his eyes on it. Centuries of starvation had shrivelled it to a piece of flesh connected to a single eye the size of his head. He still remembered tracing lines on the temple with his fingers and the feel of the agan gathering under his nails as the seals responded to his touch.
“Only you can open it,” the old man had insisted. He had felt so proud, hearing those words. No one else had such faith in him since his father had died.
Enosh allowed himself to glance up at the empty sky. He should still be proud. Despite Yn Garr conveniently neglecting to tell him that the abomination was twice more powerful than when he had seen it last, he had still managed to contain it. Thrice more powerful, if you counted that it had eaten the dragon. Not only that—he got out without a scratch. Only a true descendant of High King Elian of Gorent could have accomplished such a thing.
Sapphire’s horse appeared beside him. “You did almost die down there.” She had a way of pointing out the obvious.
He smiled at her. “Don’t be silly.”
“Do I look like I’m trying to be silly?”
“Now that you mention it—”
“You overdid a spell. You…” Sapphire drew her horse nearer and bent forward, as if she was sniffing him. Her eyes widened. “You idiot. You went through.”
“It’s not a big deal. I’m still here.” He touched his face.
She looked like she wanted to jab his eyes out with her riding whip. “You fell in. You shouldn’t even be here. What happened back there?”
“It’s not something I want to discuss right now.”
“Why not? Because it’s probably over something as stupid as putting up a shield-spell while fighting a conjured beast, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, I’ve been given that lecture already,” Enosh snapped. “Can we just please drop it?”
“Given? By whom?”
“You know, for a hire, you’re asking way too many questions.”
“It’s my responsibility to speak up when I see someone misusing his abilities to this extent. In Dageis, they’d have dragged you to a council by now.”
“Thank all the gods we’re not there, then.” He glanced back at her and could’ve sworn he saw steam rising from her ears.
“So you think basic rules don’t apply to you? That you can just do whatever you want?”
Enosh smiled. “That’s the idea, yes.”
She cursed in Gasparian. He sighed and urged his horse between two of the men in front of him, effectively blocking her from his sight. Ranias grinned at him. “Woman troubles, boss?”
“Women are always trouble.”
Ranias ran a hand through his hair. “Now that you’re no longer busy, I don’t suppose you’ll take this off my hands?” He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a small, worn-out scroll.
Enosh didn’t move. “You’ve been carrying that all this time?”
“I—well, when you said you didn’t have time for it I figured that’s what you meant.”
“The fact that I never asked you for it again didn’t clue you in? By all the gods, man, we’ve been on the road for months.” He saw Ranias’ brow furrow and sighed. “Give it to me.” He took the scroll and stuffed it into his saddlebag.
An Elegy of Heroes Page 40
