“Then how will he reach the Tomb?” Pyre asked.
“He will follow the path he knows, the tunnel where the Morriseys fell. I believe Edwin may be ready to find the Gate.”
CHAPTER 25: PARLOR TRICKS
Edwin had already been awake and training for hours with Herald when he took a break to chat with Walt.
“Why don’t you ever show me what you can do with your mahr?” Walt asked from behind his screen. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and Walt was dressing for the mines.
“I don’t know,” Edwin replied. “It just feels like something that should be private.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen your mahr? Doesn’t it like me?”
“Of course it does,” Edwin lied. Walt came out from behind the screen dressed in a light coat and pants. Snow was still on the ground, but the days were already warmer. “It’s never shown itself to anyone. I think it’s shy.”
“Well, I’d love to meet it sometime,” Walt said as he crossed the room to his nightstand. Walker was perched on a tree branch Walt had found by the pass, and the stick-bug blended in perfectly. When Walt put his arm out, Walker leapt from its branch and crawled up Walt’s arm and down into his pocket. The stick-bug’s head was still poking out, and Walt had to pet it a moment before it disappeared for good.
Downstairs, Sam ignored him—nothing unusual—and soon they were both out the door. After they left, Edwin went back up to his room, got comfortable, and picked up Herald. “So what’s on the agenda today, Herald? Something new, I hope!”
The book yawned. “I’ll admit that you have exceeded my meager expectations. You might not be as dumb or lazy as you look. Still, you must learn patience before I will teach you my secrets. You’ve mastered neither control of your mind nor your emotions.”
“Sure I have,” Edwin said, and ducked to the floor and rolled into a handstand. Then, almost effortlessly, he lifted Herald off the ground and let it hover motionlessly in the air in front of him. “See? I can do loads without my spirit now, and I mastered moving things with my mind days ago. I haven’t thrown you or yelled at you in ages… And even if I had, we don’t have time to waste.”
Herald yawned theatrically. “I suppose you may be ready to learn the basic elementals—an easy task for a proper Host bonded with his mahr.”
“Real spells?” Edwin said excitedly. “Would they be any good against the imp?”
The folds of Herald’s leather cover rolled back, and a giant eye appeared. Edwin wanted to pull back, disgusted; Herald had never opened his eye and, bloodshot and revolting, Edwin wasn’t prepared for the sight of it. Under its gaze, Edwin wobbled a moment but managed to maintain his balance. “Why do you know of the imp?” Herald asked suspiciously.
“It tried to kill my friend,” Edwin said. “Why do you know about the imp?”
“Because I helped create it, of course.” Herald’s prongs stretched out to its side, and the book flew open. The pages vibrated, and it said, “Come down from that ridiculous handstand. I want to tell you a story.” The pages of the book flew open, and the illusion of the one-eyed old man appeared.
Edwin did as he was told, and Herald began: “Long ago, at the climax of the last battle between Host and man, only two Hosts remained.” A woman appeared in a patch of trees surrounded by charred forest, with nothing but ash as far as the eye could see. She seemed to be lit from behind, and she had a delicate face, platinum hair, and alabaster skin that made her look fragile, like she could be no more fearsome than a doll. “One of the Hosts was a shape-shifter, a rare talent even among the Hosts. She could be whoever people needed her to be.”
“I saw my mother turn into a giant lizard in my nightmare,” Edwin said. “I could never master that spell.”
“A dragon,” Herald corrected. “And that was more than a spell. It was an innate ability possessed only by a few bloodlines throughout history… though it does sometimes skip a generation,” Herald added disapprovingly. “Now this Host went by many names: the Mother, the Maiden, the Crone. She always went to war as the Maiden. Men always underestimate the Maiden.”
Edwin could sense the energy flowing through her veins even as an illusion. “I can tell her mahr’s powerful just by looking at her. It makes me feel… I don’t know…”
“Nervous? Inadequate? Like you show little potential?” Herald offered.
Edwin shot the old man a reproachful look as tendrils of smoke flowed into the Maiden’s hands and feet, searching for life. The wisps of smoke explored a nearby pocket of grass, and it turned to dust. “That’s a nice trick,” Edwin said. “If you can make any image you want, can you pick your own form? Or do you choose to look like an old man?”
Herald’s tired eye narrowed at Edwin and his long white beard bristled. “I have as much control over my appearance as you do yours. It seems we’re both unlucky in that respect.”
Edwin bit his tongue, and another image appeared. A Host with a red beard appeared alongside the woman. “He looks familiar…” Edwin said, his voice trailing off.
“Does he?” Herald asked, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. “That Host is the betrayer’s brother. He was a great warrior in his own right, and it came as little surprise that he was one of the two last standing. He and his consort were the two who cornered the betrayer, you know. When they were done with the betrayer only his foot remained.” While Herald smiled at this recollection, an indistinct horde of men appeared opposite the hosts, some carrying swords, but many others carrying only hoes, rakes, or common axes. One man had a bow, and he launched an arrow at the woman. In a flash, fire erupted from the woman’s entire body and flew towards the men, disintegrating the wooden arrow in its wake. Some men ducked and others tried to jump aside, but fire engulfed them all and as the fire died away, only the two Hosts remained. The woman’s color turned momentarily gray, but the smoke resumed its flight from the surrounding life into her fingertips and her color quickly returned to normal.
Edwin asked, “Why absorb the life from trees when the men are right there for the taking?” It seemed like an obvious question, but he didn’t like how a gold spark flashed through the spirit, like it was glad he had the nerve to ask something so crass.
“Too many men carry bloodstones that repel the Hosts’ tendrils,” Herald explained. “In battle the Hosts did not have time to send forth tendrils to explore for bloodstones. Better to fuel their spells by absorbing life from the forest.”
As trees fell, the remaining canopy in the little patch of forest thinned, and sunlight poured down from the sky. Wave after wave of men rushed forward, but the two Hosts kept them at bay. But as grass shriveled and turned to ash, each Host’s strength was visibly weakening.
“We’re finished,” the woman whispered, speaking for the first time.
The man nodded gravely and whispered back, “Let’s just hope we stalled them enough to give the others a chance.”
A band of five men approached from behind. The woman sent a ball of fire at them so hot that their helmets melted atop their heads. Over their screams, she said, “What chance can they have against this army?”
The man picked up the five metal corpses with a wave of his hands and flung them at a man on horseback. “Pull out the book,” he said.
The woman reached under her cloak as archers shot a volley of arrows in their direction. The man waved his hand, and the arrows rippled in the air and shattered. With his other hand, he shot a white-hot bolt at the man on horseback, and Edwin wondered who this man was as the man lifted his sword and absorbed it almost dismissively. Having retrieved the book, the woman let it float in the air, and the man raised his hand and let the pages fly forward. The pages stopped decisively, and the man commanded the book to fall to the ground, open.
“It’s you!” Edwin exclaimed, stating the obvious.
As the army rushed the two Hosts, the woman lifted her hands and spoke an incantation, and from her body arose the black imp. Its tendril-like hair wrapped itself protectively aro
und the pair.
“The imp is a shield?” Edwin asked.
Herald shook his old head. “No shield would hold back this army. The imp is her mahr. She tore her spirit asunder. Do you understand what that means? It is the most advanced of incantations. Only the most powerful, the most desperate Host with nothing to lose could ever accomplish this.”
Edwin watched in earnest as men flung arrows, swords, spears, and anything they could against the imp. “Hurry,” the woman said. Kneeling to the ground, she struggled to feed the imp energy. Archers launched arrows at the imp and foot soldiers carrying swords and spears stood at its edge swatting at it, all to no avail. Her leg was exposed beneath her dress, and Edwin watched helplessly as the death took hold of her foot, and then, slowly, her leg.
The man was speaking an incantation of his own. The words came out so quickly that Edwin couldn’t begin to follow. It was the most complex incantation he had ever heard, and it took a level of focus and precision that he could only dream of.
Then, as quickly as the man had started, he was finished. He grabbed the woman’s hand, pulled her to him, and held her tight as white-hot energy rushed towards them, flying from every inch of the distant forest that hadn’t been consumed by war.
As white light entered Edwin’s dark room from all directions, the two Hosts began screaming, the pain contorting their once beautiful, delicate faces. The foot soldiers were swatting at the imp with a fevered intensity, clearly terrified by this new spell. In an instant the Hosts exploded into a ball of black light, and the screaming stopped. The light swallowed the imp and the book shot up from the ground, lifted by the explosion, and flew above the battle encased in a black orb of energy.
Edwin’s room went dark, leaving only Herald. “And that is how the imp was created. It didn’t die with the woman. Now, if you don’t mind, or even if you do, I think I have been more than forthcoming. Now I wish to rest.” For good measure, Herald smacked his lips tiredly and stretched his arms.
“No way, you’re not done yet,” Edwin said. “You promised you’d start teaching me elementals today.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” Herald said.
“But what happened to the imp? Where’d it take you?”
“But—”
“Just a little more and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day. I promise.”
“Holding a sword to a man’s neck and promising not to chop off his head is a threat, not a trade,” Herald retorted.
“Come on Herald, don’t make this hard. I’ll send you to the mines with Walt. Don’t think I won’t.”
Herald muttered under his breath, “Cursed mahrling making demands of me, one who has advised the greatest Hosts who ever lived, one who holds more knowledge than a mahrling like you could even fathom, stuck doing your insipid bidding.” Then more loudly, the old man added, “Fine.” He snapped his fingers, and the Black Keep appeared, only it was at its peak, flawless and with every stone in its place. A moment later the book, encased in the black ball of light, landed with a thud on the floor. As the imp disentangled itself from the book, a small Host rushed over to pick it up. Holding the book tight, he ran to a pregnant woman sitting in a simple wood chair.
“My mother…” Edwin mumbled.
She was wearing the cloak he was wearing now, and when she took the book, Edwin saw a decisiveness that he had always wanted. The imp hovered at her side.
And then the image faded, and Herald said, “You see, there wasn’t much else to show. That was the end of the Hosts. With the imp, the two Hosts’ sacrifice allowed your mother to create the Host’s Tomb—with my help, of course. The Tomb cannot sustain itself indefinitely, and the imp continues to feed the Tomb energy to this day.”
“But what is the imp?” Edwin asked.
Herald’s voice was terse. “Like I have already told you, it was the perversion of the woman’s mahr. And I showed you the man’s mahr joining with it to create the black light that carried me back to the Black Keep.”
“Why does the imp kill people? Surely there’s other life it could take.”
Exasperated, Herald replied, “I can only guess. Two Hosts purposefully separating themselves from their mahrs—most would rather die. What those two did had never been done, and their creation was unstable. Their mahrs, without Hosts, had bonded with each other, becoming connected. The woman’s mahr was the vessel, and the man’s mahr commands it. His mahr is still out there somewhere.”
Edwin was shocked. “There’s something out there that controls the imp?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
“But what is it? What does it look like?”
“It could be anything.” Herald shrugged. “A pendant, a piece of clothing, a rock…”
Edwin had so many questions, but he knew Herald was running short on patience. “How do I get to the Tomb?”
Yawning, Herald replied, “The Gate to the Host’s Tomb will only allow a Host with a mahr to pass.”
Edwin felt a prickling at his leg; it was the spirit, but he ignored it, trying to get Herald to answer as much as it would. “What about Walt and his aunts?” The spirit began to move up his thigh and onto his belly.
“Hasn’t this been enough for one day? As you commanded I told you what you wanted to know, oh great Host.” The old man bowed with a great flourish.
“Yes, but just a little more,” Edwin pleaded. All the while the prickling had become a pain that was growing impossible to ignore. “Tell me about my friend, Walt. Why is Walt protecting me? And his twin and his aunts, who are they?”
Herald’s shoulders sagged. “You haven’t shown me your friends, and I can’t see what you don’t show me. But it is usually best to be wary of twins. When borne of magic, twins are unstable and unpredictable.” Seeing Edwin’s confused expression, Herald added, “It’s a matter of balance. Strength in one is weakness in the other. Goodness in one is wickedness in the other. And so on.” He was visibly bored and frustrated.
Edwin knew which was which between Walt and Sam. Spitting out the words as quickly as he could, he said, “One last question, please. Can you tell me what my mother’s name was? Ouch!”
Herald sighed and said, “Althaia,” before the apparition disappeared and the book shut.
Edwin turned to the spirit. “What is it?” he demanded, exasperated. The spirit had made it almost impossible to focus on what Herald had been telling him.
“The twins’ aunts,” the spirit hissed. “They’re here. Downsstairss.”
* * *
There was a rapping at the door, and Edwin quickly threw his cloak over the book, opened the door, and was surprised to see it was Sam in tears, not Sam’s aunts.
Gasping for air, Sam said, “Edwin, it’s Walt. He was taken—right in front of me—we were walking—and then there was this light, the imp—no one else could see it—but I could see it—no one else could!—and then Walt was gone. It took him! Where are my aunts? I’ll die if anything happens to him. We have to find them.”
“Where did it take him?” Edwin asked.
Before Sam could respond, Gretchen appeared at the stairway, followed by Mina and the triplets. Wraithlike, they made no sound as they glided across the wood floor. Sam ran to them, and cried, “Aunt Gretchen, what’s going on? It took him, it took Walt!”
“Shh, shh…” the sisters cooed as they gathered in the room. “Tell us what happened. Tell us everything.”
Backing up to give them room to enter, Edwin tripped over Herald and fell to the ground.
“Oh dear, are you all right?” Meryl asked, rushing over to give him a hand.
Edwin rubbed his hip. “I’m fine,” he said. It wasn’t until he picked himself up that he saw that his foot was caught in his cloak.
Towering over Edwin, her voice strained, Gretchen asked, “Edwin, what is that book?”
Edwin scrambled to throw the cloak back on, but the damage was done. Covered again, he held it to his chest. “It’s nothing,” he sta
mmered. “Just a book.”
“Where did you get it?” she asked, and Edwin felt his throat contract. It was obvious she knew exactly what it was.
“Erm, nowhere. I just, um, I found it.” His eyes darted to Sam. “What about Walt? What happened to him?”
The sisters studied him a moment until Gretchen turned to Sam, and said, “Yes, tell us everything that happened.”
Still sniffing, Sam replied, “The… The… That thing took him. It happened only a few minutes ago. One minute we were walking home and everything was fine, the next that imp was there and Walt was gone.”
Edwin felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He kept waiting for someone to say it was a joke or a mistake but no one did.
Gretchen nodded gravely, but said, “That’s good news. It may not be too late.”
“The imp might be saving him for later,” Pyre explained. “The imp only kills as it becomes necessary to sustain the Host’s Tomb. It may hold Walt for a while, maybe even days, before it needs to feed.”
“Why Walt? What can we do?” Edwin asked.
“As a member of our family he has old, powerful blood,” Pyre said. “His life would sustain the Tomb longer than most. Perhaps the imp is desperate. As for you, you can do nothing.”
“It’s not safe for you in the village, and it’s especially not safe for you in the mines,” Gretchen said. “Let’s go, sisters.”
“This is horrible news. Horrible, horrible news,” said Meryl, walking out the door. “We will do our best to find him and bring him back safe.”
Gretchen had already left, and the others were following.
“Sam, grab your travel-bag. You’re coming with us,” Pyre said.
“But Aunt—”
“No time to argue,” she interrupted. “Be good and do as we say.”
CHAPTER 26: A BOY TAKEN
The Dark Passenger (Book 1) Page 22
