by Todd Herzman
‘Come forth,’ the God King said. An invisible force entered Ruben, moved his legs, his feet, until he stood in front of the God King’s throne. It was a different influence than when Malarin controlled him—this was more a gentle nudge, a soft suggestion that made him want to move, want to obey. Why wouldn’t he want to obey?
All ten prisoners, shackled and chained, came to stand in a line, side-by-side, facing the throne. Ruben’s head moved up—all their heads moved up—to look at the man who sat the throne.
The God King looked young. No more than thirty. He had light brown hair that reached his shoulders. His throne was simple, unadorned. It wasn’t a throne Ruben expected a king to sit upon, let alone a god.
He wore black clothes and a black cloak, fastened with a silver clasp. He had a red, gemstone ring on his left hand. And his eyes…
His eyes were red. No pupils. Just red all around. As red as the ring he wore. Malarin’s eyes had flashed red when he’d taken Ruben’s blood, but the God King’s eyes stayed red. It was like looking into a pool of blood.
The God King seemed bored as he raised his hands. Ruben’s mind flinched but his body remained still. He felt a presence enter his mind, like when the God King’s voice had come from inside his own head.
Eyes twitched and knees buckled. Time passed and Ruben found himself on the floor. Something warm and wet dripped from his nose. The other prisoners had fallen too, their noses leaking blood, their eyes twitching until everyone lay still.
‘It is done,’ the God King said.
‘Thank you, divine one.’ Malarin’s words sounded meek. It wasn’t right for Ruben’s master to bow to another.
I understood his words. The language hadn’t changed, yet Ruben understood. Whatever the God King had done had given him more than just a throbbing pain in his skull.
Yjorgin began helping the prisoners stand.
‘Before I choose,’ the God King said. ‘Are there any you wish to keep?’
Ruben gripped Yjorgin’s hand, the man’s wrist still red and raw, and was helped up from the ground.
‘The redhead boy, divine one,’ Malarin said. ‘He has an Affinity for fire. I would give you the other nine if you were to let me keep him.’
‘You would give them to me?’ The God King’s voice boomed louder than before. It stabbed into Ruben’s ears from all directions. ‘As if it was your decision to make? As if every life did not already belong to me?’
‘My apologies, divine one, I only meant—’
‘Hush.’ The word quieted Malarin’s speech and made every thought in Ruben’s head disappear. The God King stood from his throne and walked down the three steps to the marble floor.
Ruben couldn’t help staring. All the prisoners were. The God King started from the other side of the line of prisoners and inspected each in turn. He put a hand to their shoulders and stared into their eyes. Ruben could see the prisoners freeze.
The God King didn’t say a word as he went through them. He reached Ruben. A whispered thought somewhere in Ruben’s mind wondered if he would be cowering in fear were he in control.
The God King stood a step in front of Ruben, red eyes staring, from top to bottom, at the blacksmith’s boy. He placed a hand on Ruben’s shoulder. His eyes flashed a pulse of light.
‘You are different.’ The God King’s voice seeped into Ruben’s bones and his hand moved to the back of Ruben’s neck. He knelt in and sniffed—as if he were breathing in Ruben’s thoughts. ‘Something special. Something… familiar.’ The God King let go. Ruben’s mind sighed while his body stood unmoving. ‘Release his bloodlock.’
Malarin looked as if he wanted to protest, but his shoulders drooped, and his head fell. ‘Yes, your divinity.’ Malarin straightened, standing tall. Arms spread wide, fingers splayed, he turned his head to the ceiling and shut his eyes. He breathed deeply, then clapped his hands.
Ruben’s neck flared in pain. The shock doubled him over. He found himself on the ground, gasping for breath, grasping at his neck, at the scar his master—the demon—had given him.
The demon. The man was a demon, not his master. Ruben’s mind was free again. He stared at the marble floor, trying to catch his breath, trying to orient himself. He saw the God King’s boots, polished to an inhuman shine, gleaming more like silver than leather.
‘Unlock his shackles.’
The boots stepped out of Ruben’s view and old tattered ones replaced them. A strong arm gripped him and dragged him off the ground. Yjorgin took a key from a ring on his belt and undid the shackles at Ruben’s wrists and ankles.
Ruben dared not look at the God King. Evil, Ruben thought. No god. No King. Just evil. Instead, Ruben stared at Yjorgin and nursed his wrists, sore from the metal rubbing as he moved.
‘Look at me,’ said the man the demon called God King.
The Devil, Ruben thought. Or something like it.
Ruben pried his eyes from Yjorgin to stare at the red-eyed man. He looked younger than Malarin, but when Ruben stared into those eyes, he felt something old.
‘Show me your powers. Show me your Affinity for fire.’
Gladly, Ruben thought. He imagined the man, the devil that stood in front of him, who looked so calm, so in control, burning, becoming ashen and black like the raider he’d killed in the kitchen. The God King’s lips twitched into a smile, as if he knew what Ruben was thinking. The smugness fuelled Ruben’s rage.
Ruben breathed deeply, he felt the power Malarin had taken from him back in his gut and tapped it, harnessing as much as he could—harnessing all of it at once. Bright light flooded the space—his hands bursting aflame. The fire burned brighter and more fiercely than ever before. He remembered how he’d flung it at Yjorgin’s father. He moved his hands and threw the flames at the brown-haired man with the smug red eyes. The flames hit—
Nothing. Or rather, nothing Ruben could see. They stopped an arms-length from the man, stopped by an invisible barrier. The flames, seemingly having a mind of their own, tried to wrap around their foe, circling the devil in a ring of fire that never touched his skin and didn’t make him so much as twitch.
The devil smiled. He clicked a finger and the flames were gone. The ring of fire disappeared. Ruben’s hands extinguished.
Ruben collapsed. Whatever power he held inside had been tapped dry.
‘The boy will stay with me,’ the devil said.
Ruben lay on his back, staring at the stone ceiling.
His mind was free again. His emotions not dulled but his own. He missed the numbness. How had his life become this? He heard the shuffling steps of the other prisoners, the heavy gait of Yjorgin, the soft step of Malarin, as they left the hall. Taya, his betrothed, leaving with them.
Ruben had been kidnapped by a demon, then given to the devil.
Chapter 20
Ella
‘Thirteen?’ Ella blurted out. ‘That’s barely older than my younger brother!’
Arin inclined her head. ‘The blood mage who took me sought me out.’ She held up her hands and made them glow faintly. ‘When I was seven, I discovered what I could do. My parents found me in the back garden making grass grow with the light.’ She smiled, looking off to the side. ‘They thought it a miracle, called me their little light bringer.’ Her smile fell away. ‘But the people in the town, they were afraid of what I could do.’
‘You were just a child,’ Ella said. How could they be afraid of a child? She thought back to her own small town, to the sermons from visiting priests, to her own apprehensions about the witch Aralia. She couldn’t say she wouldn’t react the same way…
‘Aye, I was. But people are superstitious, afraid of what they don’t understand. They respect Tahali monks because they know they are there to help—because they took an oath of pacifism. They employ weather witches on the sea, but don’t let them set foot ashore, not in Kharleon. And when a little girl starts performing magic?’ She shook her head. ‘All they have is fear. They
worried on what would happen if my powers got out of control, and rumours spread.’ She shrugged. ‘Kharleon isn’t known for its acceptance of magic, there are no schools for it. Not like in Guhrat or Ulden.’
Ella looked at Arin wide-eyed, she glanced between her and Reena. ‘There are schools for magic?’
‘In more civilised countries.’ Reena sipped her tea.
Arin forced a smile at the captain, then went on. ‘My town tolerated me because I made the crops grow taller than our neighbours every season. But those neighbours grew jealous of our yield. When they heard what I could do, they blamed me when their crops didn’t grow enough.’ Arin stared at her hands. ‘I was close to leaving. My parents knew I didn’t belong. I was going to go to the Tahali mountains, to join the monastery there, become a monk, help people. But before I could…’ She sighed.
‘Well, first you have to understand that a blood mage doesn’t only feed off normal people for their strength. When they feed off someone without magic, it helps them stay young, it makes their bones and muscles stronger, makes their influence on those they control stronger, and it boosts any powers they possess. When they feed off someone with magic? When they make them their thrall? They steal their Affinities—their gifts.’
Ella thought back to the conversation she’d had with Reena as they walked to Arin’s house past the teenagers. Reena had saved them by fighting a blood mage with light coming from his hands. The blood mage must have stolen Arin’s power.
‘I don’t know how word got to the blood mage. Blood mages are always looking for new abilities to steal. Maybe it was just rumours, spread so far they finally reached him, or maybe someone from another town sought him out, because they knew it was a way to get rid of me. I always feared a seeker would come into town, that a wandering priest would hear of what I could do, and I would be judged before I could make it to the mountains… I never expected a blood mage. I never knew they existed. When the blood mage came to town, all he was after was me. He didn’t raid the village, didn’t kill a single soul. He just strolled right in and stole me from the field as I was helping the crops grow.’ Arin blinked through the tears. Reena reached across the table and took her hands. ‘Forty years. Forty years I was under that man’s control, and for forty years he used my powers to hurt people.’
Arin looked Ella in the eyes, hers still watering. ‘I don’t want to give you false hope. I don’t want to tell you that your brother is okay if he’s locked inside his own mind with no power over what he can do. Your brother is not okay, but he is alive. Blood mages don’t kill their victims, they feed off them instead.’
~
When Ella left Arin’s house with Reena, she didn’t know if she felt any better for the visit. She knew her brother was alive, and there wasn’t a damn thing that would stop her from searching for him, but she hated imagining how he might be suffering. Locked inside his own mind. She shivered at the thought of Ruben being under another’s control. He’d always been the strongest. He looked after their family. He was their big brother.
Reena must have taken her there because she worried Ella wasn’t going to do what needed to be done. Whatever spell the witch was going to cast, Reena needed to be sure Ella wasn’t going to back down.
That evening, they had dinner at Aralia’s. Not much was said about the journey they were about to take. Not much was said about anything at all. Bedrolls were laid out on a spare patch of Aralia’s floor. Sleep came fitfully.
They were off early the next morning, making the trek through the narrow pass in the cracked mountain as the sun rose. Reena stood on the sand, water lapping at her boots, waving her arms high until the Serpentine spotted them. Ella squinted, seeing the ship lower a boat and a man row it to shore.
Ella’s feet felt more sure on the ship’s deck than they had the first time she’d set foot on it. The floor still swayed, but it didn’t pull on her gut. Aralia walked on with a quiet grace quite unlike Reena’s strong step. The two women looked formidable, standing beside one another at the bow. They looked out to sea, then walked to the ship’s wheel.
‘Do we know where we’re going?’ Ephraim asked Reena.
Ella hung back to the side, gripping the rigging.
‘Not yet. But we will soon.’ Reena turned, and the others turned with her. Ella’s breath caught as the captain, her first mate, and the witch all stared at her.
‘Use my cabin,’ Reena said. ‘You’ll have plenty of privacy there.’
The captain’s cabin was the largest on board. Few of the crew had cabins all to themselves. Ella had been blessed with one when she’d boarded. Hers was a tiny room with nothing but a cot to sleep on and a trunk for her things. Not that she had many things. She’d placed the coin Reena had given her along with the coin purse she’d been given back in Billings into the trunk. She hoped she’d be able to return the coins one day, when she brought those kidnapped home.
Reena’s cabin was three times the size of Ella’s, and the captain had plenty of things. There was a desk in one corner, an inkwell and a stack of parchment atop it, along with some scrolls to one side. Ella thought she’d seen all the captain’s books back in her office, but there were more here. A personal collection. She focused on the books on the shelf as Aralia closed the door behind them. She touched a finger to their spines and wondered at what the words written on them meant.
Aralia turned the desk chair around and sat. She motioned to the bed. Ella, breathing shallow and worried to ask what was to happen next, sat.
Aralia leant back on the chair and crossed one leg over the other. ‘Blood is a powerful thing.’ Ella shifted on the bed at the woman’s words. ‘That’s why blood mages crave it. But blood mages aren’t the only ones who can use its power. There is a bond blood creates when two people share the same parents. This is a connection not even a blood mage could break.’
‘You… you need my blood to find Ruben?’
‘No. I need you to find Ruben.’ Aralia rubbed her fingers together, and her hands sparked. ‘I need to strengthen the connection you have with your brother, make it solid. Now, if it works, for a time, you’ll be able to see what he sees. Be able to feel what he feels. You’ll be in his body and his mind but won’t be able to communicate with him.’
Ella didn’t respond right away. She didn’t want to sound afraid by asking too many questions. Though there was one thing that had been niggling at her since they had left the large, rounded hut the day before. ‘May I ask you a question, Aralia?’
‘Of course.’
‘Yesterday, after Reena spoke to you about coming on board, I overheard Jacob call the two of you in-laws. How—how are you related?’
‘My brother is her husband.’
‘Oh.’ Ella looked down. ‘You must know how I feel.’
‘Only you know how you feel. I would never presume to know what you are going through just because I have gone through something similar.’
‘If he’s your brother, can’t you do what I’m about to? Couldn’t you have done that years ago?’
Aralia shook her head. ‘We have different fathers. The connection isn’t strong enough. Now, are you ready?’
Ella wasn’t ready, she might never be, but she nodded all the same.
Aralia came to sit beside her on the bed. She took a compass from her pocket, opened it, and placed it in her left hand. ‘I will need to touch your mind. It might feel a bit… strange.’ Aralia put her right hand on Ella’s left temple. She closed her eyes, and Ella did the same.
Ella felt another presence in her mind. A stab of pain thrust into her skull. And as fast as the presence had come, it disappeared, seeming to recoil. Aralia abruptly let go. They opened their eyes, the witch’s were wide.
‘What?’ Ella touched her forehead, nursing the pain. ‘What happened?’
‘Something unexpected.’ Aralia’s voice lacked its usual confidence. She shook her head, and her expression returned to normal. ‘Nothing to worry abou
t.’
Nothing to worry about, Ella thought. That never bodes well. Before Ella had a chance to ask more questions, or recover from the pain in her head, Aralia’s hand touched her temple again. Ella shut her eyes tight, trying not to flinch at the woman’s touch—she felt the witch’s presence once more. And something else. Just a feeling at first, of unease. Like something wasn’t quite right. The feeling took over her brain and thoughts came unbidden. Thoughts that weren’t her own, thoughts that she forgot the moment she stopped thinking them.
Then memories of Ruben came. Ruben, working the forge. Ruben, coming home from the hunt. Ruben, borrowing old Joslin’s donkey to pull a cart to Devien.
Ruben, telling Ella and Marius to run into the forest, to hide in the hollow tree as he ran into the fire. Every memory she’d had of her brother played in her mind from start to finish until something sparked.
‘What do you see?’ Aralia whispered.
Ella opened her eyes—but they weren’t her eyes, and they were already open. She stared at a plush bed in a lavish room. The room was large, made of stone. She felt her body move—no, not her body. Someone else’s. There was warmth on her back—a fire burning.
‘I’m in a large room. It’s… definitely not on a ship.’ It didn’t feel right. The body she was in moved to lie down on the bed and stared at a high ceiling.
How could this be where Ruben was?
Chapter 21
Marius
Now that many of the houses in the town had been rebuilt, Old Joslin’s farmhouse became quieter. Each day, Peiter had used his magic to help fix another part of the town, then walked into the forest and meditated, regaining his mana from the natural power found in the forest.
And each day, Marius had been watching him, following him, meditating—or trying to—beside him. Wondering, impatiently, when the monk would be done here. When he’d talk to Joslin—when they’d finally be able to leave. None of the townsfolk seemed to mind that Marius hadn’t been doing any tasks around the village, and Marius wasn’t sure they noticed his absence.
