Unseen Secrets

by S. B. Sebrick

  They now stood in a hollowed out space above the channel, a smuggler’s dock. A candlestick lit a small wooden table, a handful of stools, the cards and scattered coins of an unfinished game. Further into the shadows, two narrow passages winked at him from the light of the candle. One led into a store room of sorts, the other still echoed with the footsteps of the retreating scouts.

  Calistra ducked into the storage room, shuffling through barrels, buckets and bags for a few moments. Kors dragged Keevan to the table, leaving him lying on the ground at the thief’s feet. The burly man pulled a satchel out from under a seat, untying the drawstring and pulling handfuls of cornbread free. He savored each bite, sighing contently.

  Keevan’s stomach groaned in such hunger. Kors actually glanced at the tunnel worriedly, searching for the source of so ominous a noise, before his gaze settled on his prisoner. He smiled sadistically, breaking off a piece of bread.

  “Here, mutt. If you’re so hungry, eat where the rest of you Outlanders belong," Kors said, grinding the piece into bits and sprinkling them onto the ground in front of Keevan’s gagged face.

  The foul gag cut painfully into Keevan’s lips as he tried to push it aside with his tongue. The sweet smelling cornbread mocked his hunger. But at least the abusive restraint preserved some shred of his dignity. His hunger burned so persistently he might have at least licked the crumbs off the top of the crumb pile, which hadn’t touched the filthy floor.

  Kors’ taunting was cut off by Calistra’s return. Heat radiated from her body, leaving the edges of her clothing glowing against her skin in a perpetual smolder. She carried a white crystal in her trembling hand, before sitting down at the table.

  “I hate this part," she muttered. Keevan had to crawl away a pace or two, to find a clear view of her face above the table. Gritting her teeth, she set her hand aglow. The crystal pulsed with sudden white light, displaying their small cave in perfect clarity.

  Calistra convulsed, her right hand trembling as the bright light sank into her limbs, running along her veins. It didn't take elemental vision to see the process, in fact, he found himself shielding his face with his hands, until his eyes could adjust to the new light source. Calistra's pupils rolled into the back of her head, leaving only the whites of her eyes visible. Kors shifted uncomfortably on his stool, putting away his bread.

  “Report, Kors," Calistra said, her voice thick, deep and masculine. Keevan cringed as he heard the words, watching her entire countenance shift, voice and all. Hearing a young girl speak in Zerik's gravelly voice was unnerving to say the least, but she even sat like a powerful Etrendi sitting in judgment. So much for meeting their shot caller face-to-face.

  “Well, sir. We were unable to capture the Pagoda," Kors answered, shuddering with the words. “We also lost Krayden, when the creature escaped. It cooked him."

  “I’m aware of the creature rampaging through Issamere, again," Zerik hissed through Calistra’s body, her lips curled in annoyance. He skipped over the death of the second thief without a moment’s hesitation, sending a shudder through Keevan’s gut. This man accepted casualties far too easily. Zerik continued, “Why did you fail this time? If you lost another of my precious relics—”

  “No, no, no!” Kors answered hastily, pulling the repulsor orb free and setting it on the table top. “In fact, we recovered the first one. Somehow, it ended up in this whelp's hands. It’s the Sight Seeker, Keevan. Madol brought him along to inspect the scene and one thing lead to another..."

  He proceeded to describe the events leading up to Keevan’s capture. Zerik watched through Calistra’s twisted body, white fire slithering through her veins like a nest of pale worms. Then Kors leaned over, grabbing Keevan by the nape of his collar and dragging him into a sitting position at the table, alongside Calistra’s pale, contorted face. Suddenly, the wet, hard ground felt far more comfortable.

  “So, this is the infamous Sight Seeker. Kors, remove the gag. This boy needs to speak, not to mention breath," Zerik said, his deep voice booming through the catacombs. A shiver of fear tickled Keevan's spine. This Tri-Being lacked the fear or unease most Tri-Beings hurled at him when they met his gaze. Instead, he saw in Zerik only a subtle ... hunger. Kors undid Keevan's gag, relief flooding the Outlander's mouth. Zerik continued, “You’ve proven both persistent and surprisingly resourceful, both traits I value highly in my followers."

  “Sir?” Kors interrupted hesitantly, flashing a burning gaze of hate at Keevan. “Shall I toss him in the channel? The Harbor Guild will fish him from the sea and no one will be the wiser."

  Zerik licked his lips, Calistra's face contorting oddly as he arched an eyebrow. “An interesting thought, but no. This is the ‘Hope of Hiertalia’ as some Scholars have said, we can’t have him killed. Not yet, at least. I’ve a better idea."

  “I won’t help you," Keevan said quickly, gulping nervously but taking some courage at Zerik’s words. This Tri-Being, whoever he was, played the Council's game. They wouldn’t kill him, not outright. Zerik turned his attention on Keevan, analyzing him through the whites of Calistra's eyes.

  "Really? Some would say I deserve your loyalty above all." Zerik countered, his countenance flickering red in restrained anger. "Do you know your history? Fifteen years ago, I competed before the Temples to be called as Malik for my beloved city. Issamere's current ruler cheated, using hidden Danica tools to overthrow me. I tried to prove him false, before the High Priests, but I learned long ago the only real truth is found at the end of a sword."

  "So I've read," Keevan countered, trying to sit straight up. Beads of sweat dripped down his face from the Etrendi's constant heat. The wrists tied behind his back made such a gesture less than intimidating, and he winced from the pain in his twisted shoulders, but at least he wasn’t crawling like a worm on the floor anymore. “You tried to overthrow the Council once and failed. You'll fail a second time. But they don't need to know about your involvement here, I just want to go home. If you let me go now, I’ll say I was hooded the whole time. I didn’t see any faces or recognize any voices. I’ll tell them you let me go when you realized my identity. No harm, no foul."

  “Again, interesting." Zerik muttered, leaning forwards. Little white veins of fire coursed through Calistra’s pale skin and the whites of her eyes. “Quick thinking as well. A valuable asset indeed."

  Keevan bit back a witty response, taken by surprise. He expected a blow to the head for his insolence, perhaps a searing burn, but not a compliment. Two powerful Tri-Beings in the last day had called him valuable. Madol’s praise inspired him to achieve more. Zerik’s words sent Keevan scurrying for the nearest hole to hide in.

  “Just let me go," Keevan asked meekly.

  Zerik hovered there, leaning on to the table top through Calistra’s body. The possessed Tri-Being looked from Keevan, to Kors, to the storage room in the back. When he looked at Keevan again, he smiled widely, lips pulled back in an icy smile.

  Kors grinned wickedly, trying to anticipate his master's whim. “Would you like me to visit his parents? I could have them bruised or permanently injured."

  Keevan’s courage vanished like a puff of smoke before the wind. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind this hulking thief would enjoy every minute of such a venture, if only to avenge his pride against Keevan’s lucky escapes.

  “Neither," Zerik countered, eyeing Keevan from head to toe. A momentary breath of relief flooded Keevan’s system at the words, but the look on the possessed Calistra’s face doused such feelings with ease. Keevan squirmed, considering a mad leap for the canal, but Kors would only drag him back.

  “The Sight Seeker will help us, I've already taken steps." Zerik snapped Calistra's lacquered fingers. "I’m confident he’ll do just fine."

  “We’re still going through with it?” Kors asked, surprised. Recovering his surly attitude, he continued. “Of course we are. As you command, sir. What if he should fail?"

  “Should you fail, you will likely spend your lives in the Malik’s dungeons
," Zerik grinned, glancing back at Keevan. “Do not be alarmed. I've arranged for ample motivation on the part of our Sight Seeker friend here. Now, Keevan, about securing your services."

  “Why would you possibly think I’d help you?” Keevan asked. Kors twisted his arm from behind, forcing the Sight Seeker to hiss in pain.

  The two scouts from earlier emerged from the shadows, dragging a limp body, dark hair draped over her face. They dropped her alongside Keevan, her hair falling to one side as she rolled to a stop. Kors growled, but said nothing. The world ground to a halt around Keevan, as he looked at Bahjal's weak, broken body.

  "She tried to follow you, I understand," Zerik said softly, like a parent consoling a child who'd recently lost a pet. "I can have a healer tending to her while you're away. But, without your promised cooperation..."

  "Why me?" Keevan whispered, his eyes fixed on Bahjal. Her chest rose and fell ever so slightly. Her wet, matted hair left bloody stains on her shirt and face.

  “Because, boy, I’ve watched you since your arrival on our shores. Studied your kind from every angle. It's time for you, the only Sight Seeker in Hiertalia, to rise up among the Tri-Beings and stand," Zerik said with passionate fervor. “There is a record room directly beneath the great library. Calistra knows the passage I seek. Destroy it and Bahjal will live. Do we have a deal?”

  The silence stretched on for a moment. The candles flickered ominously, as did the sparks of energy linking Calistra to Zerik. Kors and Bahjal both held still, but for their steady breathing. For once the burly Tri-Being's gaze was focused on Keevan with a look other than hate, this time, his eyes flickered with a hint of ... desperation.

  A thought slipped into Keevan's mind. "You're a liar," he told Zerik.

  Kors hissed dangerously, grabbing Keevan by the hair and driving his head down against the roughly cut table. The slivers cut into his skin and pain raced along his scalp, leaving Keevan to wonder just how much force Kors would require to snatch him bald.

  "Tell me, boy." Zerik chuckled, glaring down at Keevan. Though, from this position, all Keevan could see was Calistra's tantalizing curves from her shoulders to the table top. If she weren't talking in a man's voice the ankle could have proved arousing. "On what part have I lied?"

  "Bahjal didn't follow me. I know her elemental field. I'd have spotted her in a second." Keevan grumbled, gritting his teeth against another twist from Kors' meaty hand. "That means you didn't catch her in the tunnels. You took her earlier today. She's just a Rhet, with no tactical value, except for the fact that she's my closest friend. That means you were also planning on kidnapping me today as well. Kors was just lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time."

  "Please, Master Zerik, let me punish him," Kors growled, pulling Keevan back onto the chair. "Perhaps pain will motivate him better than the wounded Rhet at his feet."

  "Calm yourself, Kors," Zerik said with a dismissive wave. "When I have orders for you, I'll give them. You are right, Sight Seeker. We've planned this little event for months now and had decided on either using Bahjal or one of your parents. Now, tell me. Would you rather I arrange for sweet Masha to take Bahjal's place, or Nariem?"

  Kors released Keevan's head. The Sight Seeker rubbed his face with his bound hands, smearing crimson across his thumbs and leather straps. He glanced down at Bahjal, noticing a few small pools of blood forming under unmoving head. Keevan gulped and nodded. There wasn't any other option. "I'll get that record for you. Just let her live."

  “Excellent! Knew I could count on you. Your parents raised you well," Zerik said, giving Keevan a small ovation with Calistra's delicate hands. "Well, I have a schedule to keep and I believe Keevan will be more useful than his pale face and trembling hands let on. Kors and Calistra should give you enough hold over water and fire to navigate the palace defenses. After all, you need only access a secret library, not Malik Morgra’s personal bedchambers."

  “What’s in it for you?” Keevan asked suspiciously.

  Zerik gave a light, uncaring shrug. “At the moment? Giving a struggling boy the chance to show his worth, even if it's something he's failed to see himself. At the records room? Just the burning of certain documents. No one gets hurt. Suada willing, no one will even know you were there."

  Chapter 14

  The black catacombs stretched out into an endless night, interrupted only by Calistra’s glowing hands and Kors’ grunted shoves from behind. The rocky tunnel turned and bent like the belly of some great serpent, without any semblance of order one would expect from the city’s ancient inhabitants. But, Keevan’s attentions were centered on a different mystery altogether.

  “So, what’s the plan, once we get to the palace?” Keevan asked, skipping ahead as Kors attempted an annoyed slap at the Sight Seeker’s head. “You might as well tell me. It’s not like I can escape through these tunnels. They all look alike. How are you keeping your bearings straight in all of this?”

  “I’ve had months to prepare for this," Calistra echoed offhandedly, whispering something under her breath as she stared at the next intersection, four tunnels of various widths and heights. With a nod of direction, they climbed up a steep rise to a much narrower path. “Your job is just to see the obstacle and tell us how to get past. That’s all."

  The ceiling hung so low Kors had to walked with his head bowed, pulling himself along in a half-crouch like a hungry beast. Keevan would have thought it comical, were anyone but him forced to scamper ahead of the large Etrendi thief in the dark tunnel. He felt like a mole, fleeing a hungry serpent.

  “I still don’t like this," Kors rumbled behind them. The tunnel curved from side to side as if dug from the bedrock by a drunken mining crew. “Belenok's fury, what if he can't do it. Maybe the years are finally addling Zerik's mind. No Tri-Being could do this. How do we know this boy will keep his word? What if he leaves the girl to die?”

  “This ‘boy’ is the only Sight Seeker in all of Hiertalia," Keevan shot back, feeling years of frustration take to the jibe like an unwary foot triggering a snare. His eyes radiate with blue energy as his vision slipped into the elemental plane. “Perhaps you're the kind of man who leaves friends to die, but I'm not."

  “Enough," Calistra hissed, before Kors could respond. The burly thief regarded Keevan with narrow eyes and a contemplative pout. Tugging on his sleeve, Calistra continued, “Douse those eyes of yours, they’re too bright."

  “I can fix that," Keevan answered, reducing the power flowing through his eyes with a steadying breath. The blue light faded somewhat, as did the contrast with which he saw the nearby elements. Thin moisture and faint changes in heat hung in the air or coalesced around rock formations, granting him a blue and red swirling outline of the tunnel, not enough to make sprinting wise, but enough for a careful hand and cautious pace.

  “Fine," Calistra sighed, returning her attention to the descending tunnel and the unsteady footing of its loose rocks presented. Her cloud-like figure pulsed with the fire energy so intrinsic to her personality. Despite her insistence on past preparations, her heart sparked occasionally with tremors of fear.

  “So, Kors here is doing this for the money, I assume," Keevan said. Kors gave him a hard shove in response. Keevan grunted with effort as he slid the last few feet down the incline of the tunnel, barely keeping his balance. It flattened out into a reasonably straight shot for the next fifty yards. “But why are you doing this, Calistra?”

  “Reasons you couldn’t understand," Calistra said, her palms flaring bright orange in a sudden flash of anger. “Just know if you get us caught, I will cook the flesh from your bones. You don’t heal like we Tri-Beings, after all."

  “Something the Haldrans of my childhood never let me forget," Keevan countered, scrambling a bit faster to keep pace with her. Not only was there valuable information to be learned, but the more her anger burned, the greater the warmth she pulled around her. For the first time in hours, he felt the Goosebumps and the need to shiver fade away. “I am forever alone,
a lowly Outlander trapped among the Tri-Beings. You’re an Etrendi, and General Arnadi’s daughter no less. What could you possibly have to complain about?”

  A wave of heat hit Keevan like a physical blow, forcing him back into Kors’ wake. It was so intense, even the burly thief was back pedaling. Calistra spun on him, flames crackling down her arms and through her hair. The air around her bent and warped with the sudden increase in temperature, casting the illusion even the walls around her were boiling.

  “Do not ever presume to know me," Calistra said, her voice strangely cool like oiled steel, considering the intensity of her emotions. Keevan’s courage fled as he tried to hurry past Kors. The thief muttered a muffled curse, trying to scramble back up the steep incline. A rock gave way beneath them, bringing them both crashing down to the base of the tunnel, scraping against elbows, knees, stones and the hard ground as they rolled to a stop.

  Keevan looked up at the fire Etrendi and felt his face flush in embarrassment, after all, he was currently sitting on Kors’ head. Calistra bit back a smirk, still radiating heat through the tunnel but her eyes flickered with mirth. The heat around her waned a moment, for humor wasn't an element connected to any elements.

  “Off!” Kors roared, bucking Keevan into the air like a child trying to ride a freshly caught stallion. The tunnel floor's hard stones and sharp edges tore into Keevan's face, arms and trousers as he rolled past Calistra. A sudden turn in the tunnel stopped his clattering pace with a firm blow, leaving his head ringing from the impact.

  When his vision settled, Calistra and Kors stood over him. They weren't threatening him, stared further down the dark tunnel, over his shoulder. Both their faces glistened a shade paler than melted wax. Calistra's heat flickered further, sparks of electricity crawling along her arms like so many worms. Kors' jaws were clenched in determination, but he took an involuntary step backwards.