by Todd Herzman
‘But there are other powers, too. Powers of the mind, ones that can influence others. Some of those powers bestow knowledge, or steal it. I once met a boy who never forgot a thing he learnt. He could read a book and remember every word. Once, he touched me’—Aralia put a finger to her forehead—‘and made the whole book enter my mind. Sevren Saliden and the Seven Winds. It’s still up here.’ She tapped her forehead. ‘The more powerful of those with that Affinity can impart an entire language to another.’ Aralia paused. Her brow furrowed. ‘But the man we are after could not have done something like that, and whoever I sensed in your mind… he ‘s not the blood mage we’re after. Which means Ruben has already been taken to Albion.’
Ella, still shaken, struggled with Aralia’s words. She’d seen much since leaving her village, but she found it hard to believe someone could learn another language at a touch from another. Then again, she had just entered her brother’s mind. There was more to this world than she’d ever known, more than the stories she’d been told growing up. She looked at the compass again, to where the needle pointed. ‘What’s Albion?’
Aralia paused. She put her hands together, looked away from Ella. ‘A dark place. It’s where the blood mages come from. It’s where they go when their ships are docked. Arin told me she was taken there, more than once. The first time…’ Aralia sighed. ‘If your brother has been taken to Albion, this is more than just attacking another ship. Not much is known about the island.’
‘But we are still going there, right? We’re still going to save Ruben, and your brother, aren’t we?’
‘Who did you see, when you were in Ruben’s head?’
‘I—’ Ella swallowed. She looked away from Aralia.
‘Describe them for me, Ella. Please.’
Ella took a shuddering breath. She wanted to forget what she’d seen—the red eyes of the brown-haired man in the dark cloak. She shut her eyes and the image of him flooded into her mind. She recoiled from it. ‘Red eyes. He didn’t have pupils.’ Ella blinked at the witch. ‘How can someone not have pupils?’
Aralia’s pale face went whiter. ‘What—what else do you remember?’
‘He had a metal clasp at his neck, holding together the cloak he wore. He had brown hair, long for a man, down to his shoulder. It—it was a black cloak. And he wore a gemstone ring. A red one.’
Aralia drew back and stood. She turned around. ‘I should never have boarded this ship again.’ The witch ran her hands through her hair. Sparks sprung from her fingers. She looked wild, alive. Ella felt the energy pulsing from her. The sparks made her hair puff and frizz.
‘Aralia?’ Ella rose from the bed, taking an unsteady step toward the witch.
Aralia turned. She faced Ella full on, lightning in her eyes. ‘Do you know who it was you saw?’
Ella opened her mouth but no words fell out. Aralia had been kind to her up till now. She’d been confident, strong. Had the man with the red eyes really made the woman so afraid? Finding no words, Ella shook her head.
‘He’s Renial. The God King of the Albion Dominion. And he was here. He saw through your eyes. I felt the presence, felt something… but I didn’t want to believe it was him.’
God King, Ella thought. What in the world is a God King?
‘If I hadn’t broken the connection, he would have found me. You know how long I’ve been keeping that island a secret?’
Ella tried to piece together all the witch said, everything that had just happened, but she could only think about what might be happening to Ruben. ‘What would he want with my brother?’
‘You don’t know then, do you?’ Aralia shook her head. ‘You’ve got no idea what’s inside of you.’
‘When you first touched my mind, you flinched back. What did you see?’ Ella took another step toward the witch, this one steadier than the last. ‘Tell me.’ Ella tasted the words as she said them. They felt different, heavy. Maybe her shock was leaving her. Maybe her confidence was returning.
‘I felt power in you. Lurking beneath the surface. Not just a little, either.’ Aralia looked no less wild as she spoke. ‘I felt a deep well of strength, of mana, magic. You know where power like that comes from, nine times out of ten? It comes from family. Arin’s Affinity, her gift, could have lain dormant in her parents, her parents’ parents, perhaps for generations. But the power I felt from you? It’s too… fresh. It’s more than just an Affinity. I dare say that it runs in the family. Renial must have felt the same power in your brother. The man might call himself a God King but he’s just a blood mage. A powerful blood mage, but a blood mage all the same. That’s why he wanted your brother.’
Ella looked at her hands. No light. No sparks. ‘You’re wrong. My father was a blacksmith. My mother… she wasn’t a witch. She made jewellery. She was my mother and she’s gone. They’re both gone. If they had hidden powers, they would still be with me!’
Aralia gave her a sad smile. ‘If only that were the way of things.’ She sat back on the bed. ‘Powers don’t stop us from getting hurt. Sometimes, they’re the very things that make us vulnerable.’
Ella inched away from Aralia. She looked at the mirror in the corner, looked at herself in it. Her breathing was still shallow and sharp. She held out her hand, watched it in the mirror. How could she have magic? How could Ruben? She clenched her fists, steeled herself.
There were more pressing matters. She turned back to Aralia.
‘If Ruben is in Albion, does that mean he’s no longer with your brother?’
Aralia turned her head to the side. ‘Maybe. Could be they’re both in Albion. But if Ruben is with the God King…’ She shook her head. ‘You can’t just walk into Albion, go up to the castle, and steal one of Renial’s prisoners from right under his nose.’
‘What are you saying? That we can’t do this?’
‘It’s suicide, Ella. Would your brother want you risking your life for him?’
Ella looked at the compass. It pointed straight toward Ruben. Since she’d left her village, this was the closest she’d been to finding her brother. She knew exactly where he was. She knew exactly where to go. And yet, he’d never felt farther away.
Aralia stood. ‘We’ll speak with Reena. See what she has to say. Just remember, she has helped you up to this point because your goals have aligned. But if your brother has truly been separated from mine… guard your emotions, Ella.’
Aralia left the cabin, closing the door behind her. Ella collapsed onto the captain’s bed. She stared at the ceiling and felt the gentle sway of the ship. The Serpentine was anchored, and as still as it ever got on the ocean’s waves.
Ella tried to sift through all that had happened, tried to digest the new information. She was relieved her brother was alive. She’d seen him—with magic, but still, she’d seen him. She’d always believed he was alive. She wouldn’t have come this far if she hadn’t believed that. But there had been a part of her that doubted, that whispered to her that this was a fool’s errand—that Joslin and all the rest had been right.
She sighed. Ruben was alive. But he would be harder to save than she’d thought. It’s suicide, Aralia had said. Since meeting Reena, Ella had been relying on the confidence of others. She’d gotten to Devien herself, but she hadn’t known where to go after that. She might still be there, she might have given up and gone home, if she hadn’t found Reena. Reena’s confidence, then Aralia’s confidence, had buoyed her own. But if they were no longer hopeful—if their goals no longer aligned—Ella would be on her own again.
Ella sat up on the bed and planted her feet on the deck. She needed to convince Reena that saving Ruben was the best way to save her husband.
I felt power in you, the words came back in a flash. The revelation overshadowed by Ruben’s fate. Power. Ella struggled to believe it. She hadn’t even seen magic until coming to Gailopas, Aralia’s island. Yesterday, she thought, had it only been a day?
I have to learn how to use it.
Ella stood and paced in the small room, contemplating all she had to do. Convince Reena to help. Learn to use magic. And save Ruben from Renial, the God King of the Albion Dominion. Ella stopped pacing. Three things, she thought, I only have to do three things.
That’s all.
Chapter 24
Marius
Travelling with Peiter was slower than Marius had expected. Every time they stopped in a town, Peiter would ask the locals if they needed help. It wasn’t something Marius could begrudge—at least, not without feeling guilty—but he grew impatient at times. The Tahali mountains were weeks away, and they were losing hours, sometimes days, every time Peiter offered his help.
Marius shielded his eyes from the sun and stared down the hill. A scattering of houses sat in a small valley. They passed a sign on their way down the path. Peiter pointed at it and asked Marius if he was able to read what it said. Marius, not knowing his letters, shook his head.
‘Valdo.’ Peiter chuckled.
Marius glanced sideways at Peiter. ‘What’s funny?’
‘Valdo means valley in a very old language no one uses anymore.’
Marius scrunched up his face. ‘If no one uses the language anymore, how do you know it?’
‘Well, you have caught me there. I suppose it is right to say some people still use it. The monastery has books dating back that far, and further.’
Marius looked over his shoulder at the sign. He couldn’t imagine reading a whole book full of letters, let alone in another language. ‘Will I learn how to read at the monastery?’
Peiter nodded. ‘It may well be the first thing you learn. Acolytes, and young monks, are tasked with copying the text of old books into new ones. Any books you are required to read from the monastery’s library you will copy into books of your own. That way, you can take the knowledge with you anywhere you go.’ Peiter reached into his voluminous robes and pulled out a somewhat tattered leather-bound book. ‘I still carry this around with me, despite having internalised the extent of its knowledge long ago.’ He handed the book to Marius.
Marius held the book in his hands as they walked. The leather cover felt rough on his palms. There was a symbol etched in the front. A triangle, with a line cut through it just below the top point. Marius felt inside the grooves with a finger.
‘The different points on the triangle represent the different sources magic can be drawn from. The left is magic from ourselves, magic drawn from our very soul—it is from this that I am able to heal, among other things. The right is magic from nature, mana drawn from all that surrounds us—it is from this that I am able to use my Affinities. The top… the top point represents magic drawn from others, like how a blood mage takes power from those under their thrall.’
‘And the line?’ Marius asked.
‘It is… almost a play on words. For Tahali monks, that is where we draw the line. We do not take power from others, whether that power is given willingly or not.’
Marius looked up from the symbol and the book. They were close enough to the village that the thought of discovering a new place took over his mind. He handed the book back to Peiter without opening it and quickened his stride. Though Marius was impatient to get to the Tahali mountains, he still loved the idea that he was on an adventure. Each place they stopped was a new discovery. Besides, he couldn’t help but long for the comfort of an inn. A bed of straw at the very least. Fresh bread baked the same day he ate it. Butter. Milk. And, if the town they came to was particularly grateful to have a Tahali monk make a visit, meat.
This town was bigger than the last they’d entered. Some of the towns they passed through weren’t large enough to house an inn, so they would often find themselves sleeping by the fire on a farmer’s floor.
Not tonight.
The inn had a metal sign that creaked in the wind. It was three times the size of Geral’s tavern back in Billings and had three floors instead of two. There were stables out back and space enough for wagons to park. The sun’s light was quickly leaving the sky, and they weren’t the only ones staying for the night.
A whole caravan had stopped in the town. Marius and Peiter walked into the inn to find it bustling with people. Many seemed to be locals, but plenty had road dust on their shoes and ruddy faces from travelling in the sun.
And there was music.
Billings rarely had music but for the banging of cups on tables and the stomping of feet on the ground, old drinking and farming songs sung till the voice went raw. This type of music was different. Special. Marius had never heard its like before, but he knew that just by listening, just by looking at those who performed it, that it was something he’d always remember. There was a space cleared in the corner of the inn. A woman played what Peiter called a flute, while a man sung in sombre tones by her side.
Marius was transfixed. So much so that he hadn’t noticed Peiter speaking to the innkeeper until the monk tapped Marius on the shoulder.
‘We’ve beds with more than straw tonight.’ Peiter led Marius to a free table on the other side of the inn to where the minstrels played.
Marius sat, dimly aware of Peiter ordering food from a boy flitting from table to table. Marius’s eyes, which had been stuck on the minstrels, finally wandered around the place. He could tell the locals from those who’d just rolled in. Two people sat deep in conversation in one corner, an older man and a younger woman. Their clothes were finer than those around them. From what little Marius had seen of the world, he knew these two must be merchants, a father and daughter team perhaps. The caravan no doubt belonged to them.
The rest of the caravan sat at tables near each other. A few had swords at their belts to protect from bandits on the road. Marius often wondered what would happen if he and Peiter came across bandits. Marius being a kid, and Peiter having sworn not to do harm. Peiter said it was a rare thing for bandits to attack a Tahali monk. Marius couldn’t help but focus on him having said ‘rare’ and not ‘unheard of’.
A boy brought them soup, bread and drinks. Marius’s attention fell away from the minstrels and the visiting caravan and onto the food. He ripped off a piece of bread and dipped it straight into the soup before the boy had even left their table.
‘Boy,’ Peiter called. ‘May I ask a question or two?’
The boy stopped short. He looked up at Peiter, still far taller than him even while sitting. Marius shoved the bread in his mouth and watched the boy, remembering his first time encountering the monk.
‘I—I suppose. I mean, aye, sir. How can I help?’ His eyes darted to other tables that needed clearing. Men and women gave him pointed glances, tapping cups on tables.
‘There been any trouble in the town recently?’
The boy frowned, his eyebrows coming together. ‘No trouble.’
‘Any sick or injured in need of a healing hand?’
The boy shook his head. Another patron called to him and Peiter waved the boy away.
Peiter picked up his own bread and carefully pulled it in two before dipping it into his soup. He peered at Marius’s bowl, already half eaten, and smiled. ‘Quite the appetite.’
Peiter’s gaze swept the room and rested on the opposite corner of the inn. His smile fell away. Marius craned his neck to see what the monk looked at. A woman sat in the corner, dark green cloak drawn in close, eyes on a drink she sipped slowly. She didn’t look like a local, nor did she seem a part of the caravan, sitting alone. The candle on her table flickered gently, the flames playing with the light on the woman’s face. Even from the other side of the room, Marius spotted the scar running up her cheek.
The woman’s eyes met his. Marius snapped his gaze to his half-eaten soup. ‘Who’s that?’ Marius brought the bowl to his lips and sipped from its side.
‘I am not sure. But it pays, when travelling, to notice what is out of place.’ Peiter’s eyes rested on the woman before he turned to Marius. His smile returned, deepening the lines on his face. ‘Though I doubt it is anything to
worry on.’
They ate without talking, listening to the minstrels play. Occasionally Peiter’s gaze fell to the corner of the room, but he seemed more concerned with eating his food. The monk ate slow, taking small bites of bread, small sips of soup. He seemed to do most everything slow.
Marius finished his food and looked about the room. He saw joyful faces, local families and friends eating, drinking, talking with each other. The merchants were still deep in conversation, now finished with their food they had a book out. The older man wore spectacles and was going down the page with the younger woman. The minstrels had changed from slow and sombre tunes to an old drinking song Marius had heard plenty a time in Geral’s tavern. Men and women closer to the performance swayed arm in arm, holding drinks up.
Marius smiled. Before he’d left Billings, seeing so many happy faces would have made him angry. Wanting to jump up and dance with strangers would have made him feel guilty. He hadn’t forgotten about his brother and sister. The pain was still there—he felt it in his mind, in his gut, anytime he thought about them, and he often thought about them. But the pain, in this moment, wasn’t all he felt.
‘It’s good to see you smile.’ Peiter had finished his food and drained his cup in the moments Marius had spent staring around the inn.
Marius’s smile faltered. A sudden guilt stabbed at him. He took a deep breath, looked back at the smiling faces, and didn’t let the guilt overwhelm him. He let negative thoughts fall away and focused on the music. ‘It’s still hard.’
‘It will be for a while.’
The monk said the words with such a certainty that Marius flashed his gaze back at the man. Peiter still smiled, but the smile looked smaller, tired. There was a sadness to it, a sadness Marius hadn’t felt from the man before.
‘It gets easier?’
Peiter’s gaze shifted to the corner where the minstrels played. ‘Yes and no. You get better at dealing with it, at living with it. But that is not to say it ever gets easy.’
Marius pondered the monk’s words. Usually, when the monk gave answers that didn’t feel like answers, Marius had trouble understanding them. This answer, however, he thought he understood. It also made him wonder about the monk. Did Peiter have a family somewhere? Had he lost them? Marius realised he hadn’t thought about that before. He didn’t think of Peiter—or any adult, really—as someone who’d been a child once. Peiter was an adult, a monk who could heal people and move things with his mind. He’d always been that and only that in Marius’s head, but he wasn’t anymore.
