Nariem gulped, trying to rein in his anxiety. The Harbor Guild numbered in the hundreds and made their living killing Outlanders. He was only a blacksmith, armed with a hammer, a loyal wife and a street urchin. If they got wind of Keevan's true worth before the Malik did, or captured the boy himself... Nariem shuddered at the thought.
"We have to prove to the Malik, that Keevan's worth keeping," Nariem said, his heart racing in his chest. He wrung his clammy hands. His stomach twisted in sudden nausea. He was an artisan, not a warrior. Leaning in close, he whispered in her ear. "Before the Harbor Guild catches wind of it and kills everyone involved."
Bahjal laughed, a bright, cheerful sound. With a wide smile she whispered back, "It's about time. The streets of Issamere are awful boring these days. I could use a challenge. What do you need from me?"
Chapter 1
A creaking door and the scent of smoke pulled Keevan from sleep's warm embrace. He rolled over, facing the door, still curled up in a ball. Bleary eyed, he switched to his sight seeker vision. The glowing blue light from his eyes illuminated his bedroom door and revealed the approaching Tri-Being as a white cloud of energy, tied to the moisture on the far window and the heat in the air. "That you, Dad?"
"You awake son?" Nariem asked, his tone warm and apologetic. There was something amiss in his voice, a husky, worn sounds like leather strained to the point of breaking.
"Apparently," Keevan grumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Problem with an order. It's due in a couple hours. You mind?"
"I thought you finished earlier today?" His elemental vision prevented Keevan from seeing his father's facial expression. He withdrew his power, only to plunge the room into darkness again. He sighed in frustration, re-igniting his eyes with blue energy.
"Something came up. Last minute changes," Nariem said. Through the elemental plane, Keevan could see low levels of electricity flowing through his father like a small river of fear. Keevan's stomach sank nervously. Something was very wrong. Nariem's anger radiated around him, pulling at the heat in both air and stone. "Come along. We need to talk."
"Uh, alright," Keevan answered nervously. He glanced out the rain-streaked window and shuddered from a sudden chill. A half-dozen thin strands of energy connected the moisture on the window to the fields on nearby Tri-Beings in their district, but Nariem's were by far the strongest thanks to his proximity to the window.
"You sure it won't wait till morning?" Keevan asked.
"I've waited years, son. I won't wait any longer. It's time, before your mother can convince me to change my mind," Nariem insisted. The electricity around him spiked audibly, sparking through his hair like an insect scurrying for cover.
"I'll be right down," Keevan promised with a fervent nod.
"Thanks. Need a light?" Nariem asked, holding a small flame out from his off-hand, pointing at the empty candle next to Keevan. His cloudy white arm protruded out from under his tunic. Keevan restrained his elemental vision for a moment, finally able to take in Nariem's appearance. In the yellow light rising from the blacksmith's fingertips, Nariem looked more like a sculpture than a person, one covered in soot and grime. His sunken eyes and weary voice attested to his growing fatigue. "This order's getting me so frustrated... the anger makes commanding flame easier."
"It's alright, Dad," Keevan said, with a sigh. Tri-Beings could use the elements so effortlessly. Throw in a spike of concentration, anger or fear and the elements responded. Not like his power, so dull and weak. All he could really do was light his way in the dark. His eyes flickered blue as he stretched, gathering his energies. "I'll manage on my own."
"I'd expect nothing less. Meet you out there then."
"Alright."
Nariem's heavy boots thumped down the steps to the forge's side door, drawing a chuckle from Keevan. For all his father's attempts at stealth, the thick muscles of a blacksmith were useless in any situation requiring subtly. If Masha weren't so exhausted from her days deliberating with the Council, she'd have woken instantly.
Those attributes made Nariem's marriage with a Suadan woman like Masha all the more unlikely. Etrendi didn't marry below their station, but Masha chose Nariem regardless. Somehow, they made the union work. Granted, if Keevan's marks with his tutor suffered for lack of sleep, Masha would turn the full weight of her ire on both of them.
Slipping from his warm covers, Keevan gritted his teeth against the chilly air and drew on his Sight Seeker power. It felt like looking through a clear blue stone, because his glowing eyes bathed his bedroom in blue light, illuminating the leather trousers and tunic hanging from a hook against the wall. Only elementally bound creatures, like Tri-Beings, appeared as white clouds to his elemental vision. He saw the rest of the world normally, with a bluish tint. It also gave the elements themselves a subtle glow.
Rubbing his arms against the cold, he pulled on a pair of linen trousers and tunic over his smallclothes. The odor of sweat and granules of various ores tickled his neck and arms. He glanced at the window, meaning to look out over the street, but instead his power illuminated the elements there.
Softer colors covered the surfaces of the glass, substances he could only see through the elemental plane. The moisture of glowing blue dew dribbled down the glass, condensation formed from the early morning cold outside. The inside layer of glass shimmered a slight red with an ever-present heat as the warmth inside the house faded into the cold outside.
With a dejected sigh, Keevan stroked the window, feeling a drop of water run down his finger. Rubbing the liquid between his thumb and fingertip, he watched the moisture glow briefly, as particles broke away into the air, slowly evaporating. That was the extent of his power, to see what the Tri-Beings could instinctively command.
The narrow scar lining the inside of his right palm winked at him as he closed his fist. It was a thin wound, left over from his infancy, before his adoption or his earliest memory. Another empty mystery he once thought could grant answers about his origins or even protection from harm. But it no longer glowed. His brother no longer spoke through it. Only a thin brown line remained.
He felt like the afterthought of the Gods. The Tri-Beings could accomplish amazing things in their anger, fear and concentration. The best blacksmiths required no forge to heat their ores, using their rage instead. Some whispered the Harbor Guild Captains could command the tides and currents of the oceans. Raejins, masters of lightning, was a name few could whisper without cringing.
Then there was Keevan Stratagar, who could only sit idly by, watch it all happen in glowing majesty. Even helping Nariem in the forge, Keevan's thin arms and wiry frame wouldn't lift a hammer or handle the tongs. He'd merely watch and help his father stay focused. He sighed, flicking the remaining water from his fingers.
Somewhere, beyond Issamere, the sea, the Harbor Guild and the Undying Storm, lay an entire continent full of his kind. The Tri-Beings called them Outlanders, but what did they call themselves? Did they worship the Tri-Beings' Gods of the Sky? Did their Sight Seekers' powers progress at all, or stay locked in one plane like Keevan's? The ancient legends, as well as the Harbor Guild's present day reports, suggested not. But if that were the case, what remained for Keevan? Why didn't his power advance like those of his kin?
Shrugging away old jealousies and a wave of loneliness, Keevan grabbed his wool cap and cloak, heading down the stairs. He hugged the right side of the steps, avoiding three creaky boards at the middle, for his sleeping mother's sake. Despite its detraction from his studies, Masha would never forbid him from working the forge with Nariem. Well, at reasonable hours. It was the only time when Keevan's powers served any real purpose. Outside the house, his ability merely singled him out of the crowd as an easy target for anyone with a hatred for Outlanders. There were many of those.
Thick, musty air wrapped around Keevan as he slipped into the forge. A glowing furnace against the far wall buried all else in shadow. The red and orange light etched around Nariem'
s chiseled features, lengthening the bags under his eyes and leaving the impression of an old God, hard at work. Keevan used his power to illuminate both shadows and element as he navigated through the maze of twisted metal, broken tools and barrels of raw material strewn across the floor.
Nariem glared at a glowing, triangle shaped piece of ore, sitting in a bed of hot coals before him. The blacksmith's cloud-like body flickered with strands of heat, connecting his spirit to the surrounding warmth of the tools he used and the furnace itself. He worked the billows absently with his off-hand. When he saw his son, his concentration momentarily broke, the air-borne moisture around him receding in response.
Keevan felt a swell of pride, watching his father work. Few blacksmiths could work so long without anger consuming them, yet after hours of labor, he only glittered with red flicks of annoyance. Red and orange hues connected Nariem to his project, pulsing in tune with Nariem's heart, with an intensity to match his growing irritation.
"I used to wonder why you never hired someone to watch this place during the night," Keevan admitted, pulling over a chair so he sat alongside his father.
"Are you saying I'm in here too much?" Nariem echoed, returning his attention to the trinket before him. "Despite Masha's political connections, I do bear the primary weight of feeding this family."
"That's not what I meant," Keevan offered neutrally. He'd overheard enough of his parents' arguments to recognize when a comment struck too close to home. "Trying to navigate that back room is a mess. You have a lot of broken tools back there. I'd imaging if a robber tried it, he'd wind up tangled in wire and bleeding from a dozen cuts after the first step."
"It does offer some added protection from burglars," Nariem smiled wickedly. "You remember the street urchin who tried to steel my mallet last month? One of her friends challenged her to steal it, apparently. She didn't get far."
Keevan winced. "I honestly didn't think Bahj would try. Something about proving a point, she said." He opened his elemental vision, bathing half the forge in blue light as he took in the glowing coals and the strands of energy connecting their heat to Nariem's will.
"If she had parents, I would have sent her home with a sore buttocks from my coal shovel. But I've never seen a more loyal friend, in truth. I didn't have the heart to punish her so severely." Nariem chuckled, glancing towards the handle protruding from a bucket on his right.
The strands of heat connecting him to the smoldering ore flickered with his brief lack of concentration. He sighed. "You know, your mother didn't like you running the streets with Rhet children. The wealthy and Etrendi alike think them below our station. You as well."
"Half this city is terrified of me. The other half stares at me like a rabid animal they should put down," Keevan muttered, hugging himself despite the muggy heat. "That includes the wealthy. Bahj is the only friend I have. I'm not giving that up. Why should I care what they think?"
"Because the powerful decide your fate, Keevan," Nariem sighed, setting his tools aside. The elements surrounding him shifted. Suddenly, water coated the blacksmith's skin as effectively as any Suada's, so total was his concentration. Not a glimmer of heat flickered around him. But there, around his heart, a continuous stream of electricity surged.
"Dad, what's happened?" Keevan asked, sitting up in his chair. "What's wrong?"
"The council has reached a decision, about you," Nariem said, cloudy-white fists clenched in anger. Heat surged from the forge, into his hands. "They're going to put you into the Rankings, with the other Tri-Beings your age."
"Really?" Keevan asked, perking up in sudden delight and relief. "Belenok's fury dad, you scared me. This is great news! It means they'll finally treat me as one of you, right? A tri-being. I've always wanted to fit in, now I..." He trailed off, watching the heat fade from his father's limbs. Suddenly, goose bumps covered Keevan’s arms and he shuddered. Their breaths spilled out in white plumes of steam as Nariem's icy despair leeched into the air around them.
"What's really going on?" Keevan asked, rubbing his biceps for warmth. "Get it off your chest and warm this place back up again."
"A full ranking includes a Tri-Being's elemental abilities, Keevan. To decide if a person deserves to live as a Rhetan, Haldran or Etrendi," Nariem admitted. Taking his son by the shoulder, he pulled him over to the forge. The hot coals still coughed up some welcome heat, but Keevan could see the thick icy blue strands of energy around Nariem's head, driving the heat from his vicinity.
The truth of Nariem's words sank into Keevan's mind. "Oh. I get it. Even Rhets have some elemental command. Bahjal's skilled enough with water to heal light wounds. What happens if a Tri-Being has no elemental powers?"
"Then they aren't recognized as members of Issamere," Nariem said numbly. "Not many places will employ such a person, and fewer would not choose even a Rhet over an... an..."
"Outlander," Keevan finished, pulling his chair closer to the forge. He plumped down on it, with his face buried in his knees and hands wrapped around his legs. He slid the chair away from Nariem, hugging the opposite side of the forge. The flickering coals drove away most of the cold. "But, I've grown up as a Tri-Being. Here with you and mom. I've never made trouble or even spoken ill against the Malik, or Issamere. Doesn't that count for something?"
"More than you realize," Nariem admitted, turning his attention back to the triangular chuck of metal nestled in the glowing coals. The icy chill in the air slowly faded as Nariem regained control of his emotions. "The Malik has kept you in the city for years now. The Harbor Guild at the least, wanted you...exiled."
"You mean killed," Keevan answered glumly. "Like the people I sailed with when the Scholars Guild 'rescued' me."
"You figured that out as well," Nariem echoed, resting his weight on the side of the forge. "When?"
"It wasn't hard, once I thought about it," Keevan said, his voice ratcheted up an octave while he fought back tears. Moisture glistened in his glowing blue eyes but none managed to escape. "There had to be other survivors, if a baby made it through the storm. But I'm sure the Harbor Guild wouldn't have stood for saving anyone else."
"They didn't stand for saving you," Nariem reminded him. "If the Scholars guild wasn't in charge of the expedition, the Malik himself giving the orders, you wouldn't be alive today."
"And now the Malik himself is condemning me to the Rankings," Keevan grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Why do they fear Outlanders so? If we're so horrible, why did they save me?"
"They fear Outlanders because you reproduce much faster than we Tri-Beings, especially the Etrendi. At the most, we have two or three children in a lifetime. Some Outlander women give birth to six or even more," Nariem's anger broke for a moment, the heat around him dissipating and turning cold for brief moment.
Keevan glanced up at his father, remembering Masha's barren womb. "You're jealous of the Outlanders."
"I suppose I am, in that respect," Nariem answered, suddenly looking a good deal more tired, wrinkled and worn, like a pair of good boots worked past their prime. "But if the Outlanders attacked, it would only be a matter of attrition. So the Harbor Guild keeps us secret. The Outlanders must fear our waters terribly, for none of their ships sail our seas and live."
"Why keep me alive at all, then?" Keevan repeated.
"The Malik has some plan for you, though only he and the Scholars Guild know the details of it. But I'm sure it first hangs on you bringing some value to the city, using your unique perspective to help us find things we've missed or even save us from what we can't see," Nariem grew a bit more cheerful at those words, turning his full attentions back to the forge. It glowed with renewed heat.
"My unique perspective," Keevan echoed, watching the forge surge with new heat according to Nariem's will. Keevan moved his chair back to its place alongside his father, now that the cold was no longer an issue. The blacksmith directed most of the room's moisture into a barrel on his right, while siphoning all the surrounding heat into the triangular object half-buried in
the coals.
This was a common trick among blacksmiths. When focusing on a task always brought water into your surroundings, it made dealing with fire particularly difficult. One had to circumvent the liquid or contain it somehow, less it gather around the object of your concentration and quell the heat prematurely.
Taking a pair of tongs from the bucket of tools, Nariem fished the triangular chunk of metal from his forge. It was a spear head, with little teeth along both edges of the blade. "You know what this is?"
Keevan pursed his lips, studying the way heat surged and blossomed within the metal confines, bidden by Nariem's carefully controlled anger. Iron and steel merely accepted heat, but this metal seemed almost... hungry. A thrill of surprise raced through his heart. "That's Danica, isn't it? I've never seen it up close before."
"Yes," Nariem agreed, grinning in satisfaction. "I thought it might look different to your elemental vision than steel. That's a start. I was hoping to buy a Repulsor orb, but they're too rare to find on short notice. They actually repel elements and if they come in contact with Danica like this, they'll tear apart the grains."
"Repulsor orbs?" Keevan asked, curiosity gnawing at him. "Do they have an elemental field, like Tri-Beings?"
"I believe so," Nariem said, scratching his head. "They are relics from the ancient times. We can't duplicate them. Repulsion is strictly a Sight Seeker power, how they could fuse that into stone is beyond me. Anyway, I'm glad you can recognize Danica while looking through the elemental plane. You know that we Tri-Beings can't tell if a weapon is Danica-forged, but for the blacksmith's mark or actually wielding it? A dozen spears could lean against the wall, one Danica-forged, and we could never know it by the look of it, alone."
"It doesn't have a unique sheen to it when it's done, or something?" Keevan asked.
"Sometimes, but depending on how the smithy forges it, there are ways to give the metal a steel-like, iron or even a bronze appearance. Danica is very malleable, in both its look and power. This piece will amplify the heat of its user, once I'm done with it," Nariem said, holding the spearhead up as he stared into its glowing core. "Others enhance water or lightning. If you can mold them right. That's where I need your help."
Unseen Secrets Page 2
