Bladesorrow (The Agarsfar Saga Book 1)

by D. T. Kane

  “Wasn’t me they were hurting.”

  Ferrin nodded at the door and she noticed for the first time the two shadow children holding back at the entrance to the Hall. She must have made a face because Ferrin’s next words were hot.

  “They’re just children, Jenzara.” Then, with much less anger, he said, “Every time I refused to answer a question, he’d hurt one of them.” Ferrin nodded at Shinzar.

  She frowned and glanced over Ferrin’s shoulder. The children looked alright to her. Sullen and too thin, sure. Necks weighed down by the iron collars. But that’s how they’d looked since arriving. She was about to say something when Shinzar cut in, barking at the two figures.

  “Get in here, sniffers. Nothing’s stopping me from breaking another bone or two and healing them before you’re presented to the Grand Father. Why he doesn’t give you more lessons of the flesh himself I’ll never fathom.”

  The children’s eyes widened in unison and they rushed into the Hall, nearly tripping over their ill-fitting smocks. Before Jenzara could fully process the Priest’s words, he turned to her.

  “Get away from the prisoner, my lady.” He addressed her with such mockery it tingled her spine and her face surely went red. It reddened more when she found herself at a loss for a reply.

  “You’ll speak to the Lady of Ral Mok with more respect, Priest,” Ferrin said.

  Shinzar’s face darkened, but Ferrin held his gaze. For an instant, Jenzara feared the Priest meant to strike Ferrin, and feared even more that Ferrin meant to fight back. But then Shinzar turned away. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “You’re lucky the Grand Father left me with orders to deliver you undamaged,” he muttered. “Come with me, and quickly now, or Tragnè help me I will disobey that order.”

  The man stalked off towards father’s study without another word. Ferrin followed, though he was given little choice by the Parents all about them, each brandishing a mace that gleamed with malice in the light of the rising sun. Thankfully, Shinzar’s back was turned to the expression on Ferrin’s face. Jenzara followed, the shadow children trailing a fearful distance behind them.

  “That was unnecessary,” she whispered. Inwardly, however, she felt a foolish warmth of satisfaction at the genuine anger that had been in Ferrin’s tone when he’d come to her defense. She rubbed absently at where he’d grasped her hand a moment before.

  “Someone needs to start standing up to them,” he replied, keeping his eyes on Priest Shinzar’s back. “And you deserve better.”

  This time she actually smiled, though the expression quickly evaporated from her face as Shinzar turned back.

  “What are you doing?” Then, at a glare from Ferrin, he added, “My lady.”

  Somewhat emboldened by her friend, she looked Shinzar in the eye. “I’ve a matter to discuss with my father and Grand Father Valdin.”

  Shinzar made to protest, mouth halfway open. She raised her chin until it felt ridiculous. His mouth snapped shut like a trap around game. He gave a shrug as if to say, “If you want to anger the Grand Father, be my guest.” Then he turned and led them the rest of the way to father’s study in silence. The same Parents stood guard and swung the door open upon seeing Shinzar. He ushered them in with a glare.

  The narrow length of the study faced her, the end through which they entered still cast in shadows. Early morning sun was just seeping through the window at the room’s far end, creating a glare that forced Jenzara to shade her eyes. She nearly tripped over a tome that was pages down upon the floor. The Lessons. Quite unlike father to leave reading material in such a state.

  The Grand Father stood before the window, back to them. The orb he’d displayed to her and father the day he’d arrived sat on the reading table to his left.

  Without turning, the Grand Father said, “Remove the boy’s restraints and leave us, Shinzar.”

  “Grand Father, do you think that’s—”

  The Grand Father spun, eyes blazing. “If I want your opinion, Shinzar, I’ll ask for it. Remove the shackles and—”

  His eyes darted over her, nearly passed by, then flew back like flies to a light, locked to her face.

  Priest Shinzar seemed ready to voice further objection. He received no opportunity. The Grand Father swept his arm like a man swinging a blade and Shinzar catapulted off the ground, slamming into a shelf where he hung, pinned up like a dead butterfly.

  “What did you do to her?”

  Jenzara stumbled back from the Grand Father’s fury. Shinzar spluttered as if someone were grabbing at his throat.

  “Nothing, honored Grand Father. One of the conscripts. A boy who just took the oaths. It was him!”

  The Grand Father looked to her. It took Jenzara a moment to realize he was awaiting her confirmation before releasing the Priest. She hurriedly nodded in agreement. The Grand Father’s shoulders eased and Shinzar tumbled to the ground, an undignified squawk passing his lips. Jenzara didn’t need to look at Ferrin to know there was at least the shadow of a smile on his face at that. For her part, she was still too shocked to have much reaction at all aside from wide eyes.

  “Unlock the boy,” the Grand Father said, not even a hint of apology in his voice.

  Shinzar scrambled to his feet, produced a key from somewhere within his robes, and released Ferrin’s hands. He yanked them free much harder than necessary, gave the Grand Father a look, then scurried for the door.

  “And Shinzar?”

  The Priest stopped, back to them all.

  “Once I’ve finished with this pair, I’ll see that conscript next, yes?”

  Shinzar gave a curt nod without turning, then exited, pulling the door shut behind him. The two shadow children had huddled into a far corner away from the window’s light during the Grand Father’s outburst. Their sunken eyes now stared at her.

  No, she amended to herself. Not staring at me. They’re staring at Ferrin. She stole a look at her friend to see what might be drawing the children’s attention. Ferrin was staring back at them, a hint of compassion in his eyes as he absently rubbed at where the restraints had chafed his skin.

  The Grand Father turned to her and smiled, corners of his eyes crinkling. For some reason the image of a wolf gaping at its prey flitted through her mind and she subconsciously grasped at Ferrin’s hand. He gave it a quick squeeze and her pounding heart slowed, though not by much.

  “Lady Jenzara, you must forgive my outburst. But I can’t accept poor manners, and your face just sent me into a... Well, never mind. Please, allow me to take care of that for you.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he waved a hand in her direction. Light flashed and her face suddenly burned like she’d stepped too close to a torch. A surprised gasp escaped her lips. Then another when she realized the pain from Jeremyck’s attack was gone. She ran a hand over her now-unharmed cheek bone.

  It suddenly hit her what an honor she’d just received. Personal healing from the Grand Father himself. Her face heated again, this time for an entirely different reason, and she gave a curtsy in thanks, grasping at imaginary skirts with the hand that wasn’t entwined in Ferrin’s.

  “Thank you, Grand Father,” she murmured.

  “It was nothing.” The smile quickly faded from his face. “But I must say your presence is unexpected. I thought to speak with your friend alone. What can I do for you, my lady?”

  She glanced to Ferrin. She’d been rehearsing what she’d say. Had considered even flinging herself at the Grand Father’s feet and begging that he not submit Ferrin to the same fate as Mapleaxe. But all thought escaped her now that she was in the Grand Father’s presence. She’d hoped father would be here too so he could—

  But he must be here. Her eyes darted about the room. Scanning. Searching. And there he was. Sitting at his desk, Grand Master Bladesong’s sword gleaming on its stand behind him in daybreak’s light. It was little wonder she hadn’t noticed him. He was still as stone, sitting with hands folded on the desktop, eyes staring straight ahe
ad. His shoulder-length hair, usually tied back out of the way, hung loosely about his face, sticking out at a multitude of unkempt angles. Dark bags encircled his eyes, and he was sweating more than the moderate temperature of the study warranted. She’d have had to check his pulse for life if not for an occasional twitch at the corner of his eye.

  She released Ferrin’s hand, the slight reassurance it’d brought melting away as she did, and hurried over to him. She placed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was hot as an oven.

  “What’s wrong with him?” she demanded, concern causing her to momentarily forget she was speaking to the most powerful man in Agarsfar.

  Valdin’s smile displayed teeth bright as the robe he wore. “Raldon is a very strong man. Strong. And quite stubborn.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the cryptic response.

  “But we aren’t here to speak of Raldon, Lady Jenzara.” A serious expression replaced his smile. “We’re here to discuss the rather serious actions of your friend here this night past and determine how to—”

  “Yes,” she cut the man off, “I’m here to discuss that as well, Grand Father. But first, tell me what’s wrong with my father. And if you can spare some healing for my scrapes and bruises, why not for whatever maladies him?”

  The Grand Father’s eyes flashed and she flinched back, only just realizing the tone she’d taken with him. But an instant later, a wave of satisfaction washed over her, similar to how she’d felt last night when the Grand Father had placed his reassuring hand upon her shoulder.

  Go to the door and remain silent, a voice spoke in her head.

  She very much wanted to comply. But for a moment her concern for father overrode that desire. She began to inquire after him once more.

  Pain exploded in her head and she staggered away from father’s seated form. The voice in her mind doubled its intensity. Her stomach churned at the agony. She made her way to the door.

  It felt exquisite. The pain evaporated like water from a sun-warmed stone as she complied with its command. The pleasure intensified with each step until her whole body buzzed and quivered. Yet for some reason the Grand Father was frowning, as if just having swallowed distasteful medicine. She wanted nothing more than to rid him of his discomfort.

  “Stop that, you skomn.”

  Ferrin’s vulgarity shattered the veil of euphoria that had fallen upon her and she tripped over her own feet. She would have fallen face first into the ground had Ferrin not been there to catch her, arms squeezing about her.

  “Are you alright?” he murmured into her ear.

  His breath smelled of mint, and the ecstasy began to cloud her mind once more as she became pleasantly aware of the way his hand cradled her hip. For a moment she wanted to just sag back into his arms.

  Then she saw the Grand Father standing there, his stare straddling somewhere between incredulity and outright fury. Her back stiffened, a repulsive sensation she didn’t quite understand twisting the pit of her stomach.

  “You call me that again, lad, and you’ll soon be wishing I’d let Shinzar torture you last night as he’d so desperately wanted.”

  Ferrin’s response was a rebellious glare. But rather than being further angered, the Grand Father raised an eyebrow, a look of genuine surprise crossing his face.

  “It occurs to me, however, that not many would know enough to be angry at what I just did.” His lips curled into a smile. “Perhaps we’ll proceed with your examination before discussing your infractions. Will you come here and take it willingly, or must I use my enchantment on you as well? As I did last night?”

  Jenzara was still trying to clear her head, but she would have sworn she’d just heard the Grand Father utter the word “enchantment.” But surely not. For one, using the elements to force your will on another was illegal. But that was a mere formality, since it also required mastery of three, perhaps even four, of the elements, and no man in centuries had demonstrated such ability.

  But whatever the Grand Father had said had been sufficient to cow Ferrin. He set his jaw, glanced at father’s still unmoving figure, then without another word strode over to the orb and clasped it.

  Both of the shadow children cried out at once. Startled, she turned her attention from the orb, momentarily meeting the eyes of the girl. They seemed to beg for Jenzara to turn and flee. Something tugged at her mind, telling her that was exactly what she should do. But that was absurd. What was there to flee from? She turned her attention back to Ferrin and his exam. At least they could have this out of the way so that she could move on to convincing the Grand Father to go easy on him.

  At first, nothing happened when Ferrin touched the elemental seer. The space within retained its tepid, gray swirls. Then, it burst with color: royal blues, fiery reds, mysterious shadows, and the same green and white the orb had shown for her the day before. The Grand Father took what seemed to Jenzara a dismayed step back, eyes widening. Then Ferrin grunted and blackness erupted from the depths of the relic, consuming the colors like a virus out of control, a manticore gulping down its prey whole, until nothing but black remained. Ferrin shuddered and ripped his hand free.

  “It’s you,” the Grand Father said, shock plain in his tone. “After all this time.” He burst into a laugh that seemed tinged with madness.

  Jenzara barely heard him. She rubbed at her temples, not wanting to understand. Or perhaps not daring to. The orb was designed to display the elemental attunement of whoever held it. And it had turned black when Ferrin touched it. Black. That meant...

  Her stomach constricted like a rancher’s lasso had just been squeezed about it. She looked to Ferrin, seeking an explanation in his face. But he showed no outward signs of surprise. He wasn’t even looking at the orb—which was still swirling with an inky blackness that made her nauseous—or even the Grand Father, but at father, as if willing him to rise.

  The Grand Father’s laugh cut off and he stepped forward. Foreboding oozed from him like slime from a slug.

  “Ferrin, Orphaned of Ral Mok. I name you shadow attuned. A fifth. In accord with the laws of this land and the power vested in me by the Senate, I sentence you to die.”

  “No!” she shrieked without thinking, though part of her knew the Grand Father spoke truth. Youths cursed by the shadow could sometimes be reformed, or at least put to use by the Temple so they wouldn’t hurt anyone. But a full-grown shadow attuned? The law was clear what happened to them.

  But this was Ferrin. The boy she’d met as a little girl huddled on a pew in the Angelic Chapel, crying over her dead mother. Her one true friend. Perhaps most shadow attuned were too dangerous to let live. But not Ferrin. She moved forward to place herself between him and Valdin.

  “Grand Father, please,” she said, her mouth working independent of any conscious thought. “There must be some explanation. Perhaps the sphere isn’t working properly?”

  The Grand Father didn’t even deign her a glance, instead only waving a hand towards her, a more casual form of the gesture he’d used on Shinzar minutes before. The study’s window burst open and a gale-force wind smashed into her. She was lifted off her feet and carried halfway across the room before crashing into one of the massive bookshelves. Her lungs gasped as the impact knocked air from them. Tomes and loose sheaves went flying like clouds of dust. Yet somehow Valdin and Ferrin were unaffected by the blast, still standing right where they’d been before the window flew open. This part of the room was still shrouded in the shadows of the still-rising sun and for a moment Jenzara lost her sense of direction, flailing about.

  “If it’s any consolation, lad, I take no pleasure in this. But even if the Edicts hadn’t been passed, I’d still have to kill you. There are...” Valdin’s voice trailed off for a moment. “Things you can’t understand. That I don’t even fully understand, save that your death is necessary.”

  Without further pretense, the Grand Father raised a hand and Jenzara felt him drawing power from the sunlight streaming through the open window. She lay wheezing o
n the floor, unable to even shout in protest.

  “Stop.”

  Father’s voice came out a low whisper, yet carried such authority that Valdin paused. Father was standing, stooped over his desk, both palms face down on its surface. Sweat dripped from his forehead, impacting the desktop with audible splats, just like her tears when she’d stormed into the study to announce her intent to leave with the Parents. With great effort he outstretched one arm towards Valdin.

  “My, my, Master Raldon,” the Grand Father said. “You are a stubborn one. Then again, my charms have never worked as well on you as most others. But you must give me a moment. You can wait while I take care of Ferrin. Then I will—”

  Brilliant light erupted from father’s hand, a blinding beam heading straight at Grand Father Valdin’s chest. But the Temple’s leader was much faster than his apparent age suggested. He whipped his staff before him, deflecting the attack. It lanced away from him, ricocheting at the shadow children who still cowered in the corner. The deflection took the boy in the neck. There was spray of sparks and blood and the child crumpled to the floor. The girl beside him let out a wail and scurried behind a chair.

  Father was nearly as fast. Before Valdin had even lowered his staff, he’d grabbed the sword from behind his desk and charged.

  But Valdin recovered like a lion. Letting his rod clatter to the floor, he shot out a hand before him. Father’s forward rush came to a sudden halt, as if he’d hit a wall. He strained as if against an invisible barrier, muscles at his temples pulsing.

  Her mind was spinning, unable to accept what it was seeing. Knowing she had to do something, she reached inside her tunic, hand coming out with a knife. She stared at it for a moment, as if she’d never seen such a thing before, then fixed her eyes on the Grand Father’s heart. It’d be no great feat to strike true from this distance. But she’d never even injured a man with a knife, much less killed one. And this was the Grand Father, savior of the South at Riverdale; killer of mother’s murderer. She hadn’t even wanted to hurt Jeryk, much less a man of such greatness. Surely there was a just answer for all this. Her fingers trembled and the knife tumbled from her grasp.