He remembered the dying twitches of a man he’d killed.
So much blood.
The lingering stench of death poisoned the stew.
Raising his bowl closer to his face, Algernon breathed in the scent of herbs and vegetables. The bouquet helped.
“Maybe we should just give him the damned ring,” Father said. “It’s what he wants, and he’ll never stop harassing us until he gets it.”
“No,” Mother snapped. “We’re not going to give in to this. People can’t just win like that. It’s wrong. We have to convince him the cost is too high so he’ll leave us alone.”
Grandma Katona set her bowl on her lap and removed the matte, flesh-tone ring from her finger. Her wounds had healed so she no longer needed it. “Whatever you intend to do, I prefer not to be a pawn in this game.” She offered the ring to Mother.
“No, Mama, keep it.” Mother held up her hand to refuse it. “Let’s not lose it while we’re busy trying to figure something out.”
“You wear it,” Grandma Katona said, still holding up the ring. “I don’t want it.”
“Just put it back on,” Mother snapped. “Keep it safe.”
“That may keep it safe, but I’m more concerned about myself and Algernon.” Grandma Katona tossed the ring to Father. “That thing has already cost enough lives.”
Mother snatched the ring out of the air and presented it to Grandma Katona again. “Don’t be ridiculous. This ring will save your life. Put it back on.”
“Tara,” Father murmured, “you’re being unreasonable. She doesn’t want it.”
“I don’t care if she wants it or not!”
Algernon shrank on himself, terrified this bewildering, horrible exchange might include him more than a mere mention.
Mother took Grandma Katona’s hand and shoved the ring onto her finger. “I won’t lose you. Not now, not ever. You’re not going to die on me like Papa did.” She sniffled and blinked too much. “Everything was fine when you just stayed at home. Algie needed it because terrible things always happen to children. But now you’re out in the world again. You have to wear it!”
Terrible things always happened to children. Algernon stuffed stew into his mouth, trying not to think.
Grandma Katona sighed as she withdrew her hand and rubbed the already-healing scrape on her knuckle. “I’m old, Tara. I’m supposed to die before you. That’s ideal.”
“No, it’s not!” Mother leaped to her feet and flung her cup. The contents sloshed across the room and the cup bounced on the rug.
“Tara.” Father stood and put his hands on her shoulders from behind. He kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go find Sharin again and chat with her? It’s been a few months since our last visit here.”
Mother shrugged out of his grip and stormed out of the room. She slammed the door when she left.
With another sigh, Grandma Katona tugged the ring off her finger again. “I didn’t realize she’d become so obsessed about this.” She set aside her empty bowl and handed Father the ring.
“Neither did I.” Father took the ring and held it on his palm. “I thought we made this to protect Algie. She worries so much about him.”
Algernon made no noise. If he could have stopped breathing, he would have.
His parents had crafted an impossible ring to protect him. In so doing, they’d attracted unwanted attention. That had turned him into a monster and almost killed him.
Their efforts, he thought, had backfired spectacularly.
“I worry about him too,” Father continued, his voice softer. “The world isn’t always kind to half-elves.”
“The world isn’t kind to anyone, ever.” Grandma Katona took his fingers and curled them over the ring. “I would destroy it, Adyn. One person learned about it. Another will eventually. And another. People have already and will continue to kill for this.” She shook her head. “But it’s not my choice to make.”
Father worked his jaw. His head danced between a nod and a shake as if he had no idea whether to agree or not.
Enchanting items, according to Grandma Katona, required a special gift even rarer than the ability to heal. Even those who possessed such a talent seldom used the power-intensive and delicate process. When they did, the effort held grave potential.
Grandma Katona had told Algernon stories of mages who’d accidentally killed themselves trying to enchant items. Other stories depicted items gaining unintended enchantments.
She’d told him those tales because, like his mother, Algernon possessed that double-edged talent.
Someday, he’d learn to use it. If he dared.
Grandma Katona shrugged. “I’m tired. This has been a very long day for me. Don’t keep Algernon up too late. He’s had a rough day too.” She flashed Algernon a smile and left the room.
Sitting once more, Father held up the ring and stared at it.
Algernon sat and gulped. He wished he knew whether to speak or not, to stay or leave.
By not choosing, he made a choice.
Thick, tense silence pressed him deeper and deeper into the couch.
“Algie, you’re almost a man by human measures. What do you think?” Father pushed the ring closer to Algernon.
What did he think?
Everything the adults had said tumbled through his head, over and over. Their words crashed into each other. Mother wanted Grandma Katona to live forever. Algernon did too. Anyone would want that.
He’d killed four people. In this place, a sanctuary devoted to the end of killing, did he dare admit to his sins?
Hot, sticky blood spattered on his face all over again. He wanted to banish the memory of slashing a man’s throat. What would his mother think when she found out what he’d done?
“Algie.” Father leaned close and covered Algernon’s hand with his own. He tucked the ring into a pocket. “I meant that you should talk to me, not brood in silence.”
Algernon closed his eyes and slumped as he tried to quiet the clamor in his mind. “Sorry, Father.”
Father patted Algernon’s hand with a fond smile and sat back, giving Algernon more space than he needed or wanted. “It’s not important. Do you want to tell me about what happened this afternoon at the house?”
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Someone knocked on the door, saving him from his indecision.
Father stood and tousled Algie’s hair as he passed on his way to answer the door. When he opened it, Algernon saw him smile broadly before he pushed the door open enough to allow the visitor inside.
“Algernon, this is my mentor, Satiuz Braylen.” Father shook the newcomer’s hand.
Satiuz Braylen had dark hair streaked with gray and a broad smile. Like the others Algernon had seen in the sanctuary, he wore simple wool clothing. His had the notable exception of silver embroidery gracing the cuffs of his long sleeves.
Not sure what formalities to observe, Algernon stayed seated lest he fall over in his blanket cocoon. He ducked his head. “Honored to meet you, Mr. Satiuz.”
Father grinned. “No, Algie, satiuz is his title. It means he’s the head of this sanctuary and highly esteemed in the Order.”
Algernon’s cheeks heated. “Excuse me,” he stammered.
“You’re fine, child.” His voice boomed like he had too much good cheer to contain within his stout body. “I’m pleased to finally meet you, Algernon. I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
Having heard nothing at all about this man, Algernon gulped and hoped his smile seemed genuine.
Father gestured for Braylen to sit and shut the door. “What can we do for you, sir?”
“I understand you may be staying with us for a little while.” Braylen sat in the chair Mother had vacated and reached toward Algernon to shake hands with him.
When Algernon shook Braylen’s hand, the satiuz jumped as if startled by a sudden clap of thunder. Algernon felt nothing but warm, rough skin.
“News travels fast here,” Father muttered.
He hadn’t noticed Braylen’s reaction.
Braylen checked his hand and shrugged, apparently tossing aside the curiosity. “It so happens I have a project that could benefit from your expertise as a healer.”
A grimace flashed across Father’s face. He smothered it as he returned to his seat. “I’m not really—”
“Excellent. Glad to finally have you on board for this.” By the sly grin on Braylen’s face, Algernon suspected he knew Father had intended to decline. “It’s not as if you have anything better to do. Now, Algernon, I understand you can also use magic?”
The full force of Braylen’s attention dazzled Algernon enough to make him wilt. “Yes, sir,” he said, hoping he sounded competent.
“What’s your specialty?”
He could craft illusions that fell apart. His combat magic so far consisted of one trick he might have learned to use successfully.
Algernon gulped. “I, um, I don’t really know yet?”
“He’s still working on the basics,” Father said.
“Nothing wrong with that.” Braylen beamed at Algernon. “The basics are important for anything. Maybe we can help you get some practice. Your father could use an able assistant for his work.”
Father frowned. “Braylen, I don’t think—”
“Nonsense, Adyn. It’ll be good for him. We don’t exactly have a wealth of children here, so he’d be bored otherwise. Much like you. Best to keep busy.”
“We’ll look into that in the morning,” Father said.
“Of course. You’ve just arrived and there’s plenty of time while Tara sorts out this messy business with the other gentleman.” He stood. “You know, things like that wouldn’t happen if you stayed here. We have plenty of space, and Algernon would benefit greatly from studying here.”
Without a home elsewhere, Algernon thought they had little choice.
“If you were residents here,” Braylen continued, “I could easily smooth this whole thing over with that man.”
“I know.” Father stood with a sigh and escorted Braylen out of the room. “I’ll discuss it with Tara. Until then, we appreciate your hospitality.” He shut the door as soon as Braylen left and sighed. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Algie.”
“I want to help you, Father.” If he helped enough, maybe it would cleanse his soul. “I don’t want to sit around and do nothing while you’re working all the time. Besides, you’ve been gone for weeks.”
Father smiled at him. “I wouldn’t mind working with you either, Algie. But that particular project…” He shook his head. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with it.”
“Why not? What is it?”
Father shook his head again. “It’s not important. Let’s get you to bed so you can rest. In the morning, you and I can come up with something else to do while we’re stuck here.”
His tone told Algernon not to argue.
Algernon nodded and took help to stand. “Yes, Father.” He shuffled down the hall in his blankets.
The room had a bed, a desk with a single candle in a brass tray, and a chest. Nothing covered the smooth stone of the walls, ceiling, or floor. Father checked the chest for him and discovered three sets of plain woolen clothing. Something about them made him frown, but he said nothing and wished Algernon a good night on his way out.
Blood danced through Algernon’s dreams. He chased it, fled from it, and painted with it.
When he woke, he coughed and gagged on thick ooze with a flavor far too close to blood. It covered his skin and stung his eyes. He sat up and wiped slime from his face with both hands, gasping for breath.
The sludge covered the blanket. It covered everything he touched, even the wall.
Despite sleeping, he needed to rest.
His nightmare had tapped into his power.
With this understanding, he cut off the construct. The congealed blood dissipated, though the taste remained on his tongue.
Algernon had lost control from a dream. He knew he lacked finesse, but he’d never suffered this kind of leakage before.
Of course, he’d never killed anyone before either.
The Creator had elected to punish him. He had no other explanation. She objected to his depraved acts, even if he’d committed them to save his grandmother’s life.
He lay on his bed again, staring into the darkness.
Confessing his sins to Satiuz Braylen might help. The man seemed friendly and had said he wanted Algernon to learn more. He’d taught Father how to follow the Order of Spilled Blood properly. He could also teach Algernon.
Fighting the weariness clinging to him, he rose and lit the candle on the desk. No trace of the blood remained in the room, at least. Nothing betrayed his shame.
He dressed in the woolen clothes from the chest. They’d included fur-lined slippers with leather soles but not boots.
Not that he needed boots to stay indoors.
In the hallway, he saw no one yet heard a gentle hum of conversation. The tang of lemon in the air led him to a meal of fruit with bread and directions to find Satiuz Braylen.
The satiuz had an office on the upper floor of the sanctuary. His door, wooden like all the others he’d seen on the grounds, opened as Algernon turned a corner to find it.
Miru stepped out with a smug smile, tucking a pouch clinking with coin into his pocket.
Algernon hoped the satiuz charged Miru a great deal to stay here. He also hoped his family had to pay nothing or very little for the same hospitality.
Beyond Miru, Algernon saw plush fur, bright sunshine through large windows, and a great deal of white in Braylen’s office.
“Ah, Algernon,” Miru said with that same awful, smug smile he’d worn on their arrival. “We haven’t really met.” He offered his hand to shake.
Within the sanctuary, Miru could do him no harm. Algernon still had no interest in niceties with the man. “The people you sent after us are dead,” he said.
Miru shrugged and withdrew his hand. “Are they? Such a waste of talent. Still, then I don’t have to pay them.”
Such brazen disregard for the lives of his own people shocked Algernon. He knew those would-be kidnappers had worked for money and killed without remorse yet hadn’t expected the same attitude from their employer. Perhaps he should have.
“Satiuz Braylen, may I speak with you, please?” Algernon asked. He had no clever retort or other statement for Miru.
“Hello!” Braylen looked up from a folder in his hand. His sturdy shape filled a white cushioned armchair beside a small stone table. “Algie, wasn’t it? Come in, have a seat.” He closed his folder and set it aside as he flicked his hand to dismiss Miru.
A bolder, more worthy and less ruffled Algernon might have corrected his name. Instead, he moved swiftly to take the chair Braylen suggested, the one across his small table.
Miru shut the door, leaving them alone.
Breylen beamed at Algernon. “I’m glad you came to see me.”
Maybe he already knew. As the head of this sanctuary, Braylen could have noticed something wrong with Algernon or felt his nightmare mishap. The exchange with Miru might have added certainty to his suppositions.
“You are?” Algernon gulped, not sure what else to say.
“Of course!” Braylen reached across the table and patted Algernon’s shoulder. “The Creator brought you to us. There’s no other explanation for your presence but that you’re meant to be here. And, in fact, you could help me a great deal.”
The man made him feel small and young, sitting in the shadow of competence and confidence.
“I can?” Algernon had no idea how he, a grave, unworthy sinner, could help someone as accomplished as Braylen.
Braylen chuckled. “I remember feeling like I had nothing to offer but inexperience and failure.”
Algernon doubted Braylen had ever done anything as terrible as he had. He opened his mouth to try to talk about his horrible acts, certain Braylen needed to know. His stained soul woul
d taint anything.
But nothing came out of his mouth.
He groped for the words and failed.
“I have something that may help,” Bralyen continued. “I mentioned it when you arrived. Your father is working on a very important project for us. He’s somewhat reticent, though. The work is difficult and draining, and he’s not convinced it’ll bear the fruit I expect.”
Braylen picked up a simple wooden cup and sipped, letting a thick, deep silence unfurl between them.
Frowning at the floor, Algernon waited. The moment for him to confess had passed. He had nothing else to offer.
“It’s a shame you don’t have your father’s healing knack, but it is, after all, even rarer in men than women. Even so, there is a way you can help with this project. You can ease your father’s load in this.”
Algernon raised his head and blinked at what sounded like an opportunity for atonement. “I want to help him. What can I do?”
“The sanctuary was sited here for a reason. That reason is beneath us. There’s a network of catacombs under the grounds. A long time ago, those catacombs were used for housing the cursed dead, those who were exiled for one reason or another from a sacred burial to nourish the trees and fields.
“I’ve been meaning to get one of our few mages down there to see if any of the bones are useful to the research we’re pursuing here. They’re terribly busy, though. As am I. It would help a great deal if you could run down there and survey the catacombs for magical signatures. And if you find any, bring one or more back for study.”
The task sounded simple and it would help his father. Algernon nodded. “Yes, sir. I can do that.”
“Excellent.” Braylen stood and walked with ground-devouring strides across his office to a bookshelf. “You’ll need the key. Whatever you find, bring it to me.” He retrieved a six-inch key from a hook and held it out for Algernon. “The sooner you get this done, the easier all this is on your father.”
“Yes, sir.” Algernon sprang to his feet and took the key. “I’ll go right away.” He dashed out of the office and rushed through the sanctuary to find the catacombs.
Two flights below the ground floor, the air cooled enough to feel chilled and it smelled of dry, cold dirt. He discovered a rough, pitted iron gate at the bottom of the narrow stairs someone had directed him to. The vertical bars left gaps only a few inches wide. Beyond it, a passage became hewn rock extending into darkness.
Magic Underground: The Complete Collection (Magic Underground Anthologies Book 4) Page 147
