by Tim Akers
Memories of Copper and Blood
By Tim Akers
Harlon had a way of making quiet nights into loud mornings, and simple plans complicated. Tonight was already a loud night. It was rapidly becoming a complicated morning, as well.
We were sitting in a rough semicircle on the floor of the tower room that we rented from Thuen, the keeper of the Mannered Bear. It started out as a study room, paid for by Harlon’s generous parents during our first semester at the Iron College, but it quickly became a kind of private club. The only one of us to still study here was Elia, but studying seemed to be her natural state, as Harlon’s was talking and mine was… well. Silence, I suppose.
Tonight, we sat on the floor of our rented room with various bottles, mostly empty, scattered about the musty carpet. The heavily embroidered curtains were drawn against the night. The oil lanterns were tamped down, bleeding only the dimmest light. The smudgy smoke from their wicks mingled with whatever Jovin had packed into his bowl, making the room stink like a peat fire. There were books, too, and scrolls held open by half-full mugs and dueling knives. The fading ink squirmed across their pages, diagrams and diatribes in languages forgotten everywhere but the halls of the Iron. All from Harlon’s expensive collection, rarely used when we were sober. And we were far from sober, tonight.
In the middle of the room, flickering in half-formed light, was a spirit of fire and smoke. The thickly woven rug was beginning to char beneath it. We couldn’t hold it for long. Even now, the strain was pressing against the edge of my drunken soul. The others could feel it, too, if their nervous eyes were any sign.
“We should have put a tile down,” Elia whispered. She was beside me, cross-legged and leaning forward, her hands clasped around a bottle of stout. Her thin, brown hair was floating slightly with the effort of the summoning, as though she were underwater. “It’ll burn through the carpet, we’re not careful.”
“You let me worry about the carpet, El,” Harlon said. Of all of us, Harlon looked the most at ease. His eyes shone bright and happy, and his mouth was twisted into a proud smile. “Who’s going to bind it?”
“We’re not qualified to bind,” Elia answered harshly. “If we try to bind and fail, the Iron will kick us out faster than you can blink.”
“We’re not qualified to summon, either, and yet,” Harlon said, gesturing to the tiny spirit of spitting fire at the center of the room. The more I stared at it, the harder it was to believe. The spirit looked like the head of a torch, folded in on itself and churning in torrents of flame.
“It took five of us to summon, Harlon. Five. Four if you remember that Jovin isn’t fully here,” Elia snapped. Jovin smiled and waved his pipe, his pitted eyes never leaving the spirit. “And we’re hardly managing that. We try to bind this now, and…”
“I’ll do it,” I said. I raised my bowl of black wine to my lips and took a drink, the wine spilling around the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin. Nerves, just nerves. I risked a glance at Becca, sitting next to Harlon, one of her pale hands resting lazily on his thigh. “I’ve been studying it.”
“You sure about that, Rael?” Jovin asked. His glazed eyes were rimmed in dripping black, either makeup or ash. He took a hit from his pipe then looked at me. Thick mist puffed out from between his teeth. “You sure you can handle that thing?”
“I don’t see why not. I have the theory down, and the method. Bershaz has us practice all the time, doesn’t he?” I swallowed and started flipping through the manual in front of me. “Just a matter of finding the path.”
“You don’t have to do this, Rae,” Elia said. “We can just loosen the knot and let it slip away. There’s no need to risk…”
“Oh, let him be brave for once, will you?” Becca said. I snapped my head up, just in time to see her smile at me. My heart lurched to a stop, and that buzz, that familiar buzz, shivered through my blood. There was a sparkle in her eye, something encouraging. “I like to see Rael being brave.”
That sealed it. The others made their warnings, but I was beyond them. Harlon came over and refilled my bowl from a bottle on his private shelf, ruffling my hair as he poured. I tried to keep my fingers from shaking as I drank.
When Elia and Jovin were quiet, and Harlon had settled back into his seat next to Becca, I closed my eyes and felt through my head for the path of four lines, until I settled on the elemental form. I began to pick away at the edges of my soul, the tapestry of my spirit, until I frayed the corner and it started to unravel. That was a strange feeling, a loosening of my soul, like the heart of my heart was slipping quietly away. I shook my head and focused on the act of unmaking. Not too fast, but feeding the thread of my spirit out like a fisherman, playing his line. I opened my eyes.
The room had gone quiet. The others looked very still, very serious. The reality of what we were doing had finally settled on them. Becca looked scared, Harlon nervous. Elia watched me with the attentive concern of a mother, watching a toddler by the pool. Even Jovin had his eyes on me, fear mixing with the delirium of the smoke. I tried to shut them out, to focus on the knots of my soul, and the flickering spirit in front of me.
I raised my hand and pushed the frayed edge of my soul into the air. Thin threads like spider’s silk floated out of my trembling fingers. The tip of each thread narrowed until it disappeared into misty ghost-light. The fire spirit drifted toward me, drawn by the anchor of my soul. It reached out, folding free of its own current, to mingle with the thin lines of light at the limit of my spirit. I pushed down a thrill. I had dreamed of this my whole life, dreamed of binding and being bound.
For a beautiful heartbeat, we were together. My soul, shivering and loose, meshed with the fiery lines of the elemental. The taste of hot copper filled my mouth, and firelight traced through my bones, warming even the coldest parts of my body. The fire spirit corkscrewed through the air, dancing in a corona just above my flesh, crowning my head with a halo of flickering light and flame. For the briefest moment, we were bonded, my soul seizing tight to the ancient forms of the elemental. I settled into the warmth of the spirit’s presence, mingling together like motes of dust in a sunbeam.
And then I lost control.
The crown of flame crashed into me like a grass fire, flashing across my skin in a sheet of burning light that slapped the breath from my lungs. The air crackled in my lungs, ash melting into my tongue, my teeth laced with fire and blood. The taste of copper went sharp. I fell to the ground with a cry, spilling black wine across my freshly seared flesh.
The elemental leapt into the air, like a flame escaping the wick. It curled above my head, growling malevolently as it drank in the light of the room. The oil lamps that hung from the ceiling creaked and leaned toward the spirit, their flames snatched into the twisting knot of its heart in lines bright and hot.
Harlon jumped to his feet, grabbing a pitcher of water and dashing it at the elemental. The water hissed into fog, tongues of pitch dripping from the spirit and catching flame on the rug, the ancient scrolls, our clothing. Jovin’s eyes widened and he pitched backward, unconscious. Becca began to shriek.
Elia dragged open my shirt. Blistered lines of welted flesh traced across my skin. The pain was unbearable as her fingers danced over my chest. I tried to stop her, but my tongue gagged on a clod of ash. Tears streaked my face, and the room began to dim.
With a snatch and tear, something ripped free of my soul. The knots of binding tore away, like a braid of hair pulled out at the bloody roots. The elemental let loose a piercing wail and then collapsed on itself. Some of me went with it, icy fingers of emptiness scraping through my chest where bits of my soul once lay, gone in a flash of fire and smoke and burning copper.
Flames rem
ained, licking across paper and woven rug. Harlon stomped around the room, extinguishing the fire with his boots and swearing. When the last curl of smoke was gone, and the last ember crushed cold, he settled on the couch with a laugh and a sigh.
“Well, Rael, my friend,” he said, pulling another bottle from the shelf and uncorking it. “That was a hell of a try.”
Elia was still leaning over me, hand on my naked chest. I caught my breath and tried to sit up.
“You should rest for a second,” she said, quietly, her face close to mine. “Just give yourself a moment.”
“I’m fine,” I said, pulling the edge of my shirt closed, wincing as the fabric scraped over the glistening blisters. “You shouldn’t have… I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”
Elia watched me for a second, her mouth drawn into a thin line, then shrugged and pulled away. I looked up to see Becca watching us, the hint of a smile on her lips. I felt a blush steal across my face, but ignored it.
“Someone should see to Jovin,” Harlon said.
“He’ll be okay,” Elia said, her voice distracted. “Frankly, I’m surprised he stayed awake this long.”
“And that, my friends, is how you summon an element of fire,” Harlon said, as though none of the other conversation had even occurred.
“But certainly not how you bind one,” Becca said with a laugh that cut into me. “Don’t worry, Rae. You did your best. I don’t think any of us expected you to manage it.”
She squirmed her way up onto the couch next to Harlon, taking her glass of wine with her. I busied myself with the spilled bowl of black, mopping up anything that hadn’t soaked into the rug with my ruined shirt. Elia watched me quietly. We were both studiously avoiding what was happening on the couch.
“We’ll need more lessons, I suppose,” Harlon murmured, his voice mostly lost in Becca’s hair. “Pity. Lessons make me tired.”
“I’m a fan of lessons,” Becca whispered back. “Certain lessons.”
“Hm,” Harlon chuckled. “You certainly are. Such a good student.”
“I should be going,” I announced crossly, standing up a bit too fast. I put a hand on a bookshelf and felt ash smear across my palm. The wine and vertigo swam through my head, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from toppling over.
“I’ll see you home,” Elia mumbled. “Make sure you get there safely.”
“No need, El,” I said sharply. “I’m as fine as ground salt, thank you.”
“Yes, no need to rush off, Elia,” Becca said thickly. “Stay a while. Have another drink. Have two.”
I gave the three of them an embarrassed look, then stumbled to the door. Elia and Becca watched me go. Harlon mostly just watched Becca’s chest, as she breathed.
“Sleep well, Rael,” Harlon said as I got the door open and went out into the hall. “And maybe study a little more, before you try to do something foolish again.”
I didn’t bother answering. Out in the street, the crowds of students and tourists to the Iron College were loud and drunk and overly friendly. I pushed through them, hurrying to my quiet room in the pauper’s dorms, where I took a final draught of wine from a cold stone bottle before settling into my bed, and whatever dreams may follow.
####
Weeks passed, and none of us talked about what had happened. In the soft light of morning, the ashes smeared across my chest and the weeping blisters on my face felt more dangerous than I imagined. The first time I went back to our club room, Elia and I had spent an hour scrubbing every surface of any evidence of the summoning. Harlon had the rug replaced and the library replenished, from his father’s generous coffers, as always. We tossed the couch as well, though for other reasons.
Jovin was the first to ask about it. He didn’t remember much, and understood less. We were walking down the Rue Feral, on our way to the roaming market for the evening’s bottle, just the two of us. He was as clean as I had seen him in months, though there was a nervousness to his way, a discomfort, as though his bones itched.
“The light, mostly. All that light. And you, man, right at the center of it,” he said. He was holding an apple, turning it over so quickly in his hand that I couldn’t see the stem fly past. “Looking like a god crowned in fire. It was impressive.”
“Well,” I said, ducking close, looking around nervously. “It felt impressive. I see why people do this for a living.”
Jovin snorted, smiling. He held the apple still for a moment, as though he was about to bite into it, then returned to spinning it in his palm.
“None of us came to the college to learn our maths, certainly,” he said. “I just never thought we’d get this far along, this quickly. Do you think we can try again?”
“Try again? Well, we’ll have to if we ever mean to graduate as ‘Binders. But I think I’ll be happy to follow my course studies, for a while. Take my time about it.”
“Maybe we could try something else. Something a little less dangerous. A water elemental, perhaps, or stone…”
“Stop it,” I said sharply. I didn’t like the looks this conversation was drawing. “Spirits of the four elements are all just as difficult to draw out, and all have their own dangers. You’re as likely to be drowned by water as burned by fire, and you don’t want to think about the consequences of losing control of a spirit of air, especially in a closed space.”
“Then Law, or Chaos. What can be the harm…”
“Gods, man, just shut up.” I snatched the apple from his hand and shoved it into his mouth. “The elements are the easiest to bind. By far. And we nearly got killed doing it. No, we need to accept that we’re a ways off from binding anything. And I’m perfectly happy with that.”
Jovin settled into a quiet funk after that, chewing thoughtfully on his apple and squirming uncomfortably. He looked desperately out of sorts, but I couldn’t fathom the source of it. The man wasn’t the sort of student to strive for excellence, or even graduation. I found his determination to have another go at the summoning a little disturbing, if not completely out of character.
We reached the market without another word and started browsing for a bottle. The gold in our purse came from Harlon, and as tempted as I was to skimp and put some of the coin away, Harlon would know if we’d bought something cheap. He was a man of well-bred excess, if little ambition.
There was a Lawbinder patrolling the market, along with a couple mundane guards in the gray and black of the college. The ‘binder walked a little ahead of them, manifesting the slightest elements of his angelic spirit. It was subtle, the whisper of a feathered wing sketched in all the colors of sunrise, slung across his shoulder, a bare white corona over his right eye, nebulous robes that trailed the ground, ghosting over his iron-shod boots and the blade at his side. Most ‘binders suppressed their spirits, but this man was more interested in scaring trouble away. He looked impressive, this mix of angel and soldier, the air rippling in his holy wake.
The Lawbinder made my companion sufficiently nervous. Jovin busied himself at the wine vendor, showing an uncharacteristic interest in legal mindfuckery that made me chuckle. He kept peering out of the corner of his eye, until the ‘binder and his little troupe of guards were around the corner. When they were gone, Jovin dropped the bottle he had been fondling back into its slot.
“Listen, Rae, I have to… There’s something I need to find. To buy. I just didn’t want to, you know, while that Lawbinder…”
“I understand you, Joe. Go on, be about your business. I want nothing to do with it.”
“It’s just… do you think I can have some of the dross, Rae? A little bit of what Harlon gave us?” he asked, his eyes a little bright.
“Twenty gold he gave me, and twenty gold of wine is what I’m to bring back,” I said, a little uncomfortably. Gods knew I wanted to keep a bit of it for myself, but damned if I was going to hand it over to Jovin, either. “You know how he is with his wine, and his father’s gold.”
“There’s plenty enough of both, it seems to me,” Jovin
answered, drawing a little closer. “Don’t be hard with me, Rae. Just a dross or so.”
“Jovin, look. Becca and Harlon and I don’t care what you do, honestly, but it’s your own money that will pay for it.” I pulled my sleeve out of his grip and turned my attention to the wine vendor. “So be about your business, and leave us out of it.”
Jovin pulled his hand back, like a hurt puppy, frowning. He looked over the racks of wine, then down the street where the Lawbinder had disappeared.
“Becca cares less than you think,” he said. “And Elia more.”
I was about to ask him what the hell he meant by that, but he slipped into the crowd and away, quickly lost. I sighed.
Twenty gold really was a lot of wine for one evening, unless you got something particularly fine. I thumbed through the selection, pulling out various bottles under the vendor’s watchful eye, pretending to know what I was about when I was really just checking prices and trying to remember the names Harlon sometimes used. I paused on a bottle of Culdrian green, the glass dusty and sealed in sticky red wax. Becca had taken with Culdrian style recently, redoing the club room in paper lanterns and scarves of a thousand greens. The color went with her eyes, most flattering to her skin, and the sorts of dresses Culdrian girls wore seemed made for her figure. She may appreciate a gift like this, I thought. I checked the price. A bit more than Harlon had given me, but I had a few coins of my own clinking around in my purse. It would mean more, I think, if she knew there was a bit of my own gold in it. Surely I could delay tuition, or find another job, just long enough to pay back…
Jovin stumbled roughly into my shoulder, nearly causing me to drop the bottle. The vendor had a small fit, reaching across the counter before I could jerk the wine away. He stared at us like a pit spider, waiting to strike.
“Damn it, Joe, watch yourself. I would’ve had to pay for that, and how do you think Harlon would have felt if we returned with no gold and cheap wine?”
“The hell do I care?” Jovin hissed. He looked drawn tight, and his clothes were twisted awkwardly around his throat. He saw me staring and jerked his shirt straight. “Let’s get out of here.”
