by Dan Brigman
“When Saen suggested we speak to you about this situation, I honestly felt dread,” Einar began. “But I don’t know of anyone wiser than you.” Just as Valen opened his mouth to speak, Einar said, “What course of action do you suggest?”
Valen turned from the window to look at the two seated figures. Einar’s face, while still haggard and drawn, had taken on a look of expectation. The hopelessness which had entered the room with him had nearly disappeared, but the growing redness around Saen’s eyes exaggerated the worry she had carried into the room. A Blighter, here in Durik’s Pass, Valen thought disgustedly. What possible path can I offer to them now that one of those polluted beasts has set his sights on this Alterator?
Valen sat on the edge of the desk, held his right hand outward, and moved his gaze upon Einar’s eyes. “The course of action I can suggest depends on three things.” Valen extended a finger as he asked each question. “First, where do you think that your family has gone? Second, how are you going to respond to the Blighter’s request? Finally, I must know why you want to save your family, despite your wife’s efforts to elude you.” Slowly closing his hand, Valen looked for signs of weakness in the man’s visage, which would be indicators of his resolve.
Einar’s face had transformed from the focused expectation to inward contemplation. What goes on in that mind when he stares off like that? Valen wondered, and not for the first time. Valen knew that the longer he must wait, the faster he would lose his temper, which would only unsettle the man more; each passing moment threatened a terrible release of pent-up pressure.
The lapse in conversation reminded Valen that Saen had been surprisingly quiet during the exchange. While all the events discussed in the room had been solely focused upon Einar, her face held enough worry for the three of them. A deep frown had stolen away her usual pleasant smile, and now her eyes, something to normally be gazed upon with glee, held a look of fear. Fear, so alien and foreign, shone so intensely in her gray eyes, Valen felt the pace of his own rising uneasiness quicken considerably.
Einar broke the silence with a curious comment which drove the unease Valen felt to the back of his mind. “I believe my wife would have taken the children to my father’s home.”
“Your father,” Valen replied. The confusion upon Valen’s face must have been plain to Einar.
“Yes,” Einar stated. “I know it may seem strange that she’d seek out my father, but there is a history that would take too long to divulge right now.” Valen thought he heard Einar’s tone change in such a way that he was trying to convince not only Valen and Saen, but even himself. “Ellia has no close living blood relatives. Only a distant cousin of a dead aunt and uncle. Ellia’s parents died many years ago without providing any siblings.” Einar stopped his explanation without a hint of proceeding, and then looked at the other two. Valen nearly reached over and throttled the man. His insistence on being thoughtful served to only disturb Valen’s thinly-held patience. We need fast action, not plodding thoughts.
“While everything may be obvious to you, Einar, I am clearly in the dark here. Why would you think your wife would take respite with your father?” Valen asked as calmly as his strained temper would allow.
“I’m glad you asked,” Einar replied, causing Valen to stand up and throw his arms in the air. He moved to the window and stared at the location of the two guards. If only they had just told these two to come back another time. Einar interrupted the mayor’s thoughts with, “My father loved Ellia as his own daughter. Or, still loves her, I suppose. I have not seen the man for many years, yet he calls for her and the children nearly every summer. They have spent two months at a time there while I worked here.” Valen grimaced when a hint of sarcasm entered the Alterator’s tone.
“So, where does your father live?” Valen asked, his voice hushed by the storm’s threatening presence.
“He lives in Tolsont. He is a successful merchant, as you may recall, and he owns houses throughout the Gap, but he prefers Tolsont. When his trading ends during the winter months, he always resided in his largest home there. Something about the hotpools lured him into contentment during that time.”
“Einar, Tolsont is many days’ travel by boat and weeks’ travel by foot.”
“Yes, I know. I will be leaving in the morning after Saen and I get our provisions in order for the trip. I know horseback will quicken our pace since no boats are expected back until three days hence.”
“Have you not been paying attention to the weather?” Valen asked, incredulity obvious. “I’ll be surprised if your family arrives in Tolsont alive.”
“What do you mean, Valen? There are no storms coming this way for at least a week.”
Valen turned and motioned for the man to come to the window. Einar stood and walked to the window. Touching shoulders with Einar, Valen nodded to the imminent storm to the northwest. “I do not think that will take a week to arrive here.”
“By the Ancients, what has happened to me?” Einar asked, softly enough that only Valen heard the words.
“I do not know, old friend, but you need to find out,” Valen replied, in tones just as soft.
He turned his head when he heard movement behind him. Saen had taken to slowly pacing from wall to wall. Her head faced downward, and apparent strain lined her forehead. Turning back to Einar, Valen said, “From the looks of that storm we are in for a blizzard. Blizzards this late in the winter are particularly nasty, as you well know.” Changing tack, Valen asked, “You have only answered my first question. What is your conscience telling you to do?”
Several moments passed while Einar stared at the steel gray clouds. The man’s eyes seemed to bore into the clouds, searching for something Valen could not discern. Suddenly, as Einar stared, he began tracing a shape in the air. His finger nearly touched the glass as he placed the finger directly before him. To Valen’s eyes, it appeared as though the very end of his finger disappeared, and the room’s ambient light funneled into that one point. Einar precisely moved his finger horizontally the width of his hand. The line of pure light juxtaposed against the dim light nearly blinded Valen, but he could not take his eyes away from the rune’s Source.
With the same precision, Einar pulled his finger from the endpoint and moved it directly above the middle of the Source. The brilliance of the light refreshed Valen in a way the Source always had in the past. His eyes drank in the sight as he watched Einar move his finger downward in a line matching the width of the Source. By now, the room’s light diminished considerably while the rune’s light had grown brighter. The freshness of ozone reached Valen’s nose. When Einar’s finger reached the midpoint of the Source the two lines wobbled slightly as they connected. I wonder if that is due to the natural state of the energy trying to equalize itself. That same thought ran through Valen’s mind every time he saw the effect, but he had never been given a clear answer by anyone.
Soon, Einar reached the end of the vertical line, stopped, and then slowly extracted his finger from the end of the rune. The rune’s edge stuck to the end of his finger for a breath and fell back, which always struck Valen as strange since it looked so similar to slowly pulling a finger from a pool of water. Finally, as Einar dropped his hand to his side a faint line of bioluminescence trailed after the finger. Compared to the rune’s light the line was barely perceptible, but obvious in the dim surroundings. Within a tick of the clock sitting on Valen’s desk, the trail disappeared. An afterimage of the sight stuck with Valen as he looked at Einar’s face.
Valen gaped in astonishment as he noticed that the man’s eyes were not on the rune. They were still riveted to the snowfall in the distance. Dear Gods, this man is an Inheritor. Does he know? No, he cannot know; otherwise, he would not be so passive. The thoughts came as Valen stared at Einar’s face for any recognition of what he had done. Instead, Einar opened his mouth to mention, almost nonchalantly, that the storm would begin there no later than sunrise. The preciseness of a statement concerning the weather would have made any ot
her person look foolish, yet this Alterator’s skills did not allow for second-guessing.
Still looking at the storm, Einar spoke loudly enough for Saen’s ears, “We leave tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind.” He turned his head to the right to see Saen standing almost directly behind him.
Locking gazes with Einar, Saen replied, “Yes, of course I’m coming. Some fool must stay with you to help you remember what you are doing.” A smile moved the edges of Saen’s lips upward, yet Valen noticed her hands wringing themselves as if she were washing them of some unseen dirt.
Einar broke the silence. “Valen, the answer to your second question is simple: I’ll not give him an answer. I never knew he had an interest in me until last night, so I don’t feel an answer is required. Especially considering the circumstances I find myself in now.” Valen nearly laughed out loud. If you only knew the nature of the circumstances, Valen thought wryly.
“Curious logic, but I see your meaning,” Valen replied. He turned to sit back down in the chair. “And what about the third question?”
Einar turned from the window and looked down at Valen. He raised a questioning eyebrow up at the man while the Alterator seemed to be searching for an answer. As he clenched his teeth, Valen’s face grew hard. His patience had finally eroded away; Einar must have sensed an outburst coming and opened his mouth to speak.
“The answer is simple, really. I love my family. I may not have been the best husband or father over the years, but I know that I’ve not done anything to upset the children. Upon reaching my wife I will try to convince her that my love still holds true, and I’ll respect her wishes if she decides not to come home with me.” Einar looked downward at the floor. Valen strained to hear the whisper escape Einar’s lips. “I just want to make sure they are safe since it seems that I may have brought a plague upon them.” When Einar turned back to Valen, his brown eyes shimmered.
Valen caught the dejected look upon Einar’s face as he stood and grabbed the man’s shoulders. With a smile, Valen said, “Very well, Einar. I had hoped that something like that would be your answer. You see, had you given any other answer I wouldn’t believe you to have pure intentions.” Valen gently patted Einar’s shoulders and returned to his seat. He motioned for Einar and Saen to sit. Valen continued, “Compassion for others is the greatest gift a man can have. Without compassion, happiness simply cannot exist. In my darkest moments I’ve always tried to keep that in mind and eventually the Light has always broken through to save me from despair.” The room went quiet as Valen turned to the stationary rune still hanging in the air. A slight pulsation of light from the rune’s center had drawn his attention. Nodding to the rune, Valen said, “I can see your skill will protect you from harm from the storm, but what about your family?”
“They will be forced to stop somewhere along the way to father’s place,” Einar replied. “Asgrim’s, perhaps. Ellia may be disconsolate about her life, but she has always ensured that the children remain safe.” Just as Einar finished, a rap at the door caused Valen to ask, “What now?”
The room’s three occupants heard Josef’s familiar, but muffled, voice ask, “I do hate to bother you M’lord, but I would like to inquire on the status of your refreshments.”
“Oh, do come in, Josef. I’m not going to continue yelling at you through the door,” Valen replied in strained tones. Almost immediately the door opened and Josef’s head poked through the gap. Curiosity widened his eyes as he took in the entire room with a glance. As soon as his eyes fell upon the rune, they grew larger. He visibly strained to take his gaze from the floating light. The focus transformed into a waiting stare which leveled upon Valen as he spoke, “Thank you, Josef, for the consideration. Please bring my guests each a tankard of wine and me a tankard of water.”
“Very good, M’lord,” Josef replied as he pulled his head through the door after looking at the rune one more time. Closing it gently, the three could hear footsteps leading away from the door.
“Well, that ruins any thoughts of you coming here just to speak. While that man is loyal, he does let his lips flap too much sometimes. I suppose it cannot be helped.” Valen paused for a moment. “Now. Where were we?” Valen asked to no one in particular.
“I had just mentioned my family’s probable status on the road,” Einar prompted. Valen nodded his head in remembrance and Einar continued. “Saen and I will depart tonight after we have our provisions in order. Before we leave, though, I will impart the rune’s knowledge unto you, M’lord.” In reply to Valen’s upraised eyebrows, Einar added, “To help keep it safe.” He thinks I’m surprised by the rune, Valen thought. If he only knew my shock at his heretofore unknown skill.
Raising his right-hand level with the rune across the room, Einar moved his hand toward Valen. The rune floated across the air closer to Valen until it finally reached the center of his chest, penetrating his clothing. Valen instantly felt the light touch his skin. He had seen this ritual performed many times over the years, but he still could not get used to the feeling. Valen looked down to see a slight glow coming through his shirt where the rune had intermingled with his skin. He inhaled deeply before the rune imparted its knowledge.
Pure whiteness filled his vision for a moment. Then he knew the weather of the area. The flood of information caused him to grit his teeth; his brain reeled while torment and bliss ran in tandem with one another. While his body altered to meet the demands of the rune, Valen could feel every movement of air for miles in all directions. Every bit of frozen water that would fall, he could see plainly. The chaos of the undulating clouds became a beautiful pattern which shocked Valen’s mind. Every time this happened it renewed his awe at the Ancients’ and the Originators’ power. Fortunately, the awe is all one can remember; otherwise I’d dwell on nothing but this knowledge, Valen thought vaguely.
On the edge of Valen’s consciousness he could hear something familiar. It took him some time to focus on it since his brain now processed all the incoming information. As he began focusing on quieting the torrential influx, the pain disappeared, and he no longer struggled with deciphering any of his newfound weather sense provided by Einar. Suddenly, he realized Saen and Einar had stood up and were readying themselves to leave the room.
“How long will this last?” Valen asked, drawing their attention back to him. Einar turned around quickly in apparent disbelief.
With a quizzical look upon his face, Einar responded, “For at least three days, give or take. We will take our leave, M’lord.” He waited with one hand on the door for Valen to say something.
“Well, thank you, Alterator. This knowledge will be of utmost usefulness. If you need any mundane items, ask for them at Jolian’s, no matter the time of night. I will send a message to him so he understands. May the Ancients provide safe passage for you and Saen.”
Bowing, Einar wrapped his cloak around him and exited the room. Saen mouthed thank you to Valen as she left the room. The door did not entirely close as the two departed, and Valen could hear them speaking as they walked down the hallway. Distantly, Valen thought he heard Einar state worriedly, “He shouldn’t have been able to control it until we were at the inn. That Rune he holds is one of my most powerful...”
Valen could not hear what else was being said as their footfalls drowned out the words. The words barely reached his conscious mind since he had devoted most of his attention to the impending storm. The words, I must keep them safe, ran through his mind.
Smiling, the Lord Mayor picked up another sheet of paper.
7 — The Shadow’s Plight
Loken and Melek moved southeast at a steady pace throughout the cool morning. The trek required a few short breaks to check the Hustian horse and its load. Each time, Melek jumped to the ground with the grace of a viper which brought Loken’s brows to rise in slight surprise at his companion’s recent helpful nature. He watched Melek tighten and refasten knots which had come loose during each interval, and Melek ensured that they stopped several times as
the sun passed the sky toward noon. Melek’s weariness grew oppressive as the hours passed on the trail to their home. Both men, bone-weary from the night before, slunk in the hard leather saddles.
The general feeling of despair did not dissipate, despite the distance the men traveled. Each time they made eye contact, the feeling seemed to become stronger as hope slipped from their minds. Their eyes shifted constantly to the right and left, searching for an enemy they could not discern. Something hung at the edge of their vision, flitting away without a trace. Melek had taken rear guard soon after leaving the camp, and he constantly looked over his shoulder, causing Loken’s ire to rise.
They spoke no words, nor were any needed between the two of them. They had traveled together for so many years, they could communicate entire sentences in a mere glance. The sense of foreboding lingered around them so closely that Loken felt a thorough unease, despite their movement through terrain wholly familiar to him. He could feel something touching his mind in fleeting caresses with virtually every step of the horse’s hooves. Loken nearly shattered the silence of the late morning with a shout, but he knew that would do nothing to help Melek’s mental stability. Loken tried to rid himself of the mental trespasser by constantly shrugging his shoulders. After many unsuccessful attempts, Loken screamed in his mind, This is futile! Feeling no better, he settled into his saddle as comfortably as he could manage.
What did I do to deserve this? Loken thought with a bitter taste of ash in his mouth. He realized then that he had not taken a drink since they had left the camp hours ago; his tongue felt parched like a lizard’s backside. Loken reached back to his black leather saddlebag and grabbed the full waterskin stored within. His eyes rested upon Melek as he took a much-needed swallow of water. For a moment he rolled the water in his mouth to moisten his dried tongue. All the while, Melek did not even see what Loken was doing.
