by M. D. Grimm
"Stay with me, Morgorth," Aishe urged, jerking me slightly. "Stay awake. I can heal you, just stay awake, please."
I closed my eyes. "I can't," I slurred, and felt my life drain to the ground along with the blood.
"I need you, come on, Morgorth. Stay with me. Stay..." His voice grew fainter, and I felt myself descend into blackness.
"Lazur," I whispered. "My name is Lazur."
Chapter Ten
Many years before
The freedom was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. No one could hurt me anymore, no one could tell me what to do, or how I should feel. Everything was my decision.
I was finally in the kingdom; the days of travel had paid off. Now I would get some real food. I stood outside, barefoot, dirty, and hungry. I stared at the inn, the cold wind biting my flesh, but I hardly felt it. All I could feel was the burning core of magick inside me, the warmth and loyalty, and the knowledge that the magick would answer to no one but me.
I realized after I burned my family's house down that the magick only answered when I used a word to invoke it. But it hurt to use, a sharp ache in the pit of my stomach. My hands would also burn and glow, and that had scared me at first. I thought my hands would catch on fire.
It made me doubt myself. Maybe my father was right? Maybe I shouldn't be allowed to use the magick without someone controlling me.
His dark voice filled my ears, and I slapped my hands over them, ordering myself to block him out. No. No, he wasn't right. I knew he wasn't. He was very, very wrong. Would the Mother have come to me that night? Told me that it was my time to escape, if he had been right? No.
She was right. I was done being trained. I was done being someone's slave. It was time for me to decide what I would do next.
My stomach growled loudly. I straightened my shoulders and walked into the inn. It was loud, and the citizens were boisterous. Seelas dominated the crowd. I remembered my cursed father talking to my mother about the kingdom, about how the King took all the best goods to feed himself and his nobles, leaving hardworking citizens to starve. I had never seen the palace. I had rarely left our little farm.
But there had been one time. One time years before when we had all journeyed to the marketplace. There had been a true mage there. He had been talking to everyone. He was tall and regal, with piercing eyes and white hair. I had just stared at him, shocked that my father had been right after all. There were other mages. And I was one.
I stared at my hands. They were scarred and dirty. My nails were broken, and my hair was greasy where it hung in front of my eyes. How could I be a mage? I didn't look a thing like that elegant old man.
"What do we have here?" asked a hard voice. I jerked and looked up, way up, and managed to glare for a big male seela who resembled a trul. Smelled like one too.
"Didn't know children were allowed in here." He grabbed my neck, and his blunt fingers dug into my skin. I gasped in pain, and my magick burned inside me, coming up like a geyser.
No one would ever hurt me again.
"Get away!" I screamed, and I used the same word that had popped into my head when I'd burned my family's house down. The fire erupted from my hands and flooded towards the seela, consuming him in red and orange flames. He howled in agony as the flames ate at his flesh and clothes, and I watched, fascinated. His skin blackened, his hair turned to ash, and he thrashed violently to the bar before falling to the floor.
The flames continued to eat him as he lay still. I finally shifted my gaze, and the rest of the patrons stared at me in horror. Silence except for the crackle of the flames met my ears, and I welcomed it. I didn't like loud noises.
"Food." I demanded of the barkeep. "Or I do the same to you."
The portly female had stark red hair and dark green eyes. She looked well-fed and was currently as pale as any forest spirit. But she did what I said, and the rest of the patrons tried to become invisible.
I walked forward, ignoring the scorched seela, and climbed up on one of the stools at the bar. I felt ill. I was sweating and breathing hard. My body trembled, and my hands were tingling strangely. I looked at them, and while they didn't look any different, they sure felt different.
A plate and a mug of water were suddenly shoved in front of me. I glanced at the barkeep, and she kept her eyes averted from mine. Fine, she could live. But if anyone else touched me, I would just torch them like I had the blackened corpse at my feet. I was so powerful, it made me slightly dizzy.
I shoved the meat and potatoes into my mouth, barely chewing. I gulped down the water, not caring that my stomach was churning painfully. Flavors danced in my mouth, making me crave more. I had never gotten more than scraps from my awful family. But that would change. Everything would change.
I licked my fingers and made sure I hadn't left anything on the plate. Seeing it empty depressed me. I looked up to order more from the barkeep but she was gone. I frowned and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Then I looked around the bar and realized I was all alone. How had they left so quietly? Why hadn't I noticed?
"Lad?"
I swung my head around and gasped. That elegant old man from years ago stood at the entrance to the inn, his eyes on me. I slid off the stool and backed away. He came closer, and I wondered if I should run. I didn't want to be afraid, but I was. I was terrified. He could fry me like I had that seela. I didn't want to die.
He lifted a hand, and a whimper escaped, mortifying me. My back hit the wall, and I slid down, wrapping my arms around my up drawn knees, becoming as small as I could.
"Easy there, lad." The mage's voice was gentle and soothing. But I didn't trust him. Why should I? I remembered what my father said about the other mages, and I shuddered. How was I to know if what my father said was right or wrong?
It was the only knowledge I had to go on.
"I won't harm you." The mage knelt in front of me, his robes clean and such a pretty blue. They had gold lining, and I suddenly hungered for something other than food. I wanted the best; I wanted luxury, and wealth. I wanted what my father said the King had too much of. I wanted what this mage had.
"My name is Master Ulezander," he continued. I lifted my eyes to his face and was captured by those eyes. Those magnificent blue eyes. He had a short beard that hid his chin, and his hair fell to just above his shoulders. He had a slender nose and eyebrows, and a gold hoop hung from one earlobe. His fingers were long and slender, so unlike my father's, which were fat and blunt.
"What is your name?" he asked.
His voice compelled me to answer, even when a part of me was ordering my mouth shut.
"Lazur," I croaked.
He smiled. I was stunned.
"I have a proposition for you, Lazur." His voice became brisk. "I know you are a mage, and that your magick has developed early."
I curled into a tighter ball.
"I mean you no harm." His voice became harder. What would he do to me if angered?
"I want to teach you," Master Ulezander said. "Train you how to use your magick."
"I've been trained enough," I snapped, feeling some of my magick rise again. My determination not to be victim gave me courage. "No one will ever hurt me again. Not even you. So you should just kill me now because I would rather the Mother take me than to be trained again."
His eyebrows rose, and I thought I saw surprise in his eyes. "Whatever training you've received in the past is not the way you should be trained."
He paused. "You feel ill, don't you? You're magick hurts you when you use it? It rises when you least expect it to, and you can't control it? You can't control the strength of it?"
How does he know all that?
He smiled slightly as if he could read my mind. "That is not uncommon. You are young, and your magick is new. Let me help you. Teach you how to control it. I can teach you how to use it, how to make others quake before you. You want power, don't you? To not be the victim anymore?"
He caught my attention. I loosened my hold on my legs
and realized I was leaning forward, intrigued.
"You can do that?" I asked. "You can teach me how to become the most powerful and scary mage in the whole world?"
He smiled. "I can."
I bit my lower lip. He held out his hand. I inhaled deeply, kept the air in my breath for a ten count, then exhaled. I would let him teach me, but I would never trust him. Trust was for the weak, trust gave someone power over you. All I needed was my magick. I didn't need anyone else. When I got what I wanted out of this mage, I would leave.
I took his hand.
***
Present time
I drifted on a sea of painlessness and fluffy clouds. I wanted to stay, forever, but there was a strange urge to go back, like I had something left unfinished. But I didn't want to. I didn't care. I just wanted to rest, to really rest, and to forget. But as I continued to drift, I saw a face, a beautiful, masculine face with soft green eyes and white hair.
Aishe.
I lurched back to awareness and hissed when the aches flared and my head throbbed. I really needed to pee, and I was hungry. I pushed my eyes open with more effort than it should have taken and stared, with some confusion, at the roof above me. It was thatched, and as my gaze drifted, I saw wooden walls and a rounded doorway with strung beads covering the entrance. I turned my head and saw another bed on the other side with a trunk separating it from mine. A colorful, cheerful rug sat on the floor, and I wondered how the hell I ended up in such humble surroundings. I shifted and realized I was lying on a surprisingly comfortable bed with thick blankets piled on top of me.
Where had Aishe taken me?
I shifted some more and realized something else. I was naked. I shot up to sit and had to grip my head when my vision spun and my stomach lurched. By the Mother, what had been done to me? Memories flooded back, and I looked at my stomach to see only a very faint scar bisecting it. I looked at my bicep and saw much of the same. My inner thigh and my heel were slightly pinker than the other two, but it was obvious they were healed.
Though I was grateful to Aishe for taking care of me, I could still be pissed that he had disrobed me. The blankets were clenched in my hands as I looked around, wondering where my clothes were, and I jerked my head up when the beads parted and Aishe stepped inside.
He gasped when he saw me, and his face broke out in a delightful smile. "Thank the Mother, you're awake!"
He rushed to my side and cupped my face, lifting it and staring hard into my eyes. " Do you feel any pain?"
"No," I said through gritted teeth. "But I do have a question for you."
I knew he heard the anger in my voice, and he dropped his hands from my face, most of his smile dimming.
"Where the fuck are my clothes, Aishe?" I demanded. It was day outside, and the light streamed through the entrance, shining off my skin and my scars. My flesh was decorated with scars I had started to accumulate the minute after I was born. They were ugly and touched almost every inch of my pasty skin. The only parts left untouched were my face and neck, and he, the fucking dialen, would have seen them all. In fact, he could still see them, since I was sitting up with my back bared to his gaze as well as my shoulders and arms.
"They were washed." He stepped over to the trunk, lifted the lid, and extracted my trousers, jacket, and boots. He laid them on the bed and stepped back.
"I had to remove them, Morgorth." He spread his hands. "You were bleeding from multiple places, and I had to touch the wounds to heal them. Besides, you needed a bath and so did your clothes. I did what I had to, to save your life. I apologize if it embarrasses you but... I was not going to allow you to die."
He said the last firmly, confidently. I looked away, and, though it was a bitter pill to swallow, I knew he was right. Again. I resisted a sigh of annoyance.
"Thanks," I bit out. "Well, now we're even. I've seen you naked, now you've seen me. But I think I got the better end of that stick. Pretty nasty, huh?"
I gestured to my skin, to the strange tattoos of scars that marred my flesh.
"No, I don't think so," Aishe said and sat on the bed, on my clothes. I glared but he didn't seem too concerned.
"Your skin is a roadmap to who you are, to what made you. I find your scars fascinating." He touched one of the scars on my arm and trailed his finger down the length of it, from where it started at the mid-part of my bicep and down to my elbow. I shivered and jerked my arm away.
"Don't touch me," I warned. "What about your hakum?"
"I know what my duty is," he snapped. I could see him struggle to control his anger. "But I also know what they would want for me. We will kill the sorcerer, Morgorth. But what then? I plan to live to see what happens after, and I've always been one to plan ahead."
I looked away.
"What are you so afraid of?" he asked, leaning closer.
I leaned away, very aware that there was only a blanket between me and his roving eyes.
"I like looking at you," Aishe said, his eyes showing only sincerity. "I find you very attractive. Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Because no one ever has before," I whispered, the words pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them. "My family hated and feared me. My father used me to gain power. He hurt me and tried to train me to be his slave. I was to be his weapon against the world. My brothers didn't stop him, some even helped him. My mother was weak and scared."
I sighed, coming to a decision. "I'm the seventh son of a seventh son."
Aishe's eyes widened with knowledge of what that meant.
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, exactly. The other mages fear me because the only other two seventh sons that ever existed didn’t come to good ends. And both nearly took Karishian with them."
"What happened to you?" Aishe asked softly.
I didn't look at him as I spoke. "I fought, but I was punished. I only knew hate and anger -- all of those negative emotions that no child should grow up knowing. Finally, when I was seven, I couldn't wait for my magick to manifest and protect me. I began to obsess as much as my father on my magick, and I couldn't wait to use it on him. So, I ran away, I hid, and I meditated."
I took a deep breath and noticed that a strange weight, one I had never noticed before, began to lift off of my heart. "I realized later that I had meditated for two days straight, with no sleep, no food, barely any water. I just searched inside, poked around for my core, for the magick that was hibernating until I reached puberty. When I was about to give up, I found it. I celebrated as I latched onto it and ripped it free from where it slept. I unleashed it, and I still remember the way it felt."
I paused, noticing that my hands were glowing. "I still remember the rush of warmth, of something I thought was love. The magick was mine, it wanted me, and it would come when I called. It would do what I wanted, and it would help get everything else. It was my friend. My only friend."
I met Aishe's eyes. "But despite all that, I couldn't control it. Not really. It was bouncing around inside me, without any signs of stopping. I had energy, I had hatred, and I had want. And now I had power."
I paused and found myself grinning at the memories that bubbled up. "So I went home, and my father held that cursed whip and said that I was going to get it this time. I remember the rest of my so-called family walking out of the house, some eager for punishment, some pitying me. I hated them all and stared down at my father until he saw the magick inside me."
I relished that first moment the magick had come when I called. "I created my first word of magick that day. The first word that would invoke the power inside me, and I flung my hands toward our house, screaming that it was they who would get it this time. The fire devoured the house and there was an explosion that sent burning shrapnel over everyone. They screamed and ran. I laughed."
I chuckled, and even now I felt no shame, no guilt, and no regret. "I told them never to follow me or I would make them wish they were dead."
My smile dimmed. "I left and did whatever I wanted for about a week before my mentor, a m
age named Ulezander, found me. He convinced me to allow him to instruct me and to show me just how powerful I could be.
"He played on my desires." I shrugged. "I can see that now, but he was very smooth about it. I went with him, and I learned control, discipline, restraint, all the things mages need to know about. I embraced those teachings and had lovely thoughts of how I would go back to my family and show them just how powerful I had become."
"Did you?" Aishe asked when I fell silent. I saw that he was riveted with my story, and I knew I had to finish it.
I shook my head. "No, I didn't. I figured ignoring them was better, pretending they never existed. But I couldn't stay where I was. Other mages were afraid of me, of what I might do with my magick. I was different from them, not just because I was a seventh son of a seventh son, but because they had found their powers at puberty, some only then realizing they were mages. But I always knew, and I made my power come to me. They hated me. I left and found Happy Valley. It was a nice place, a good solitary place where I could be left alone."
I shrugged. "So there you have it. A shitty childhood, a pre-written destiny, and a liking for solitude. You're better off with someone else."
I was sure I had gotten him this time. Let him be scared away if he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stared him straight in the eyes. He raised an eyebrow and shrugged.
"I plan on changing your mind."
I huffed out a breath as he stood up. "Where are we?" I demanded, irked that he didn't see my line of logic, that he didn't seem the least bit afraid.
"We are with the Velorn tribe," Aishe offered. "They took us in and hid us. So be nice."
I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed. "Better not do that to them, you're still healing, and they might turn you out on your ear."
I grabbed my jacket and shoved one of my arms through the sleeve. "How long was I out?"
"A full day and night."
No wonder I needed to piss really badly. "Thanks; you can leave now." I really wanted to get dressed. Aishe stepped toward me and brushed his fingers at the ends of my hair. It was a gentle touch, an affectionate touch.
