Enchantress (The Evermen Saga, Book One)

by James Maxwell

  The Alturan executed a classic attack, the razor sharp steel feinting at the assassin’s legs, then making a pass at the head, before thrusting at his chest.

  Miro saw the assassin’s counter coming, but there was nothing he could do.

  "Shekular-astassine-shekular," the assassin hummed the activation runes. The blade glowed brighter and brighter, the runes first silver, then pure white. The assassin ducked under the Alturan’s sword and thrust at his chest.

  Miro saw his countryman’s body explode as the knife hit his side. Blood and viscera poured out in a river, the upper half of the man completely separating from the lower and flying off in gibbets, instantly coating both Miro and the assassin in gore.

  Miro saw his opportunity. His steel sword shot out at the assassin’s head, an attack meant more to delay than to score a hit. Yet instead of blocking, the assassin ducked out of the way and began to run.

  "Over here!" Miro called again. He began to chase the man, hoping more soldiers would follow.

  Miro wished he was wearing some kind of armour but it was too late for wishes. At any rate, only enchanted armour stood a chance at stopping the blade.

  Glancing behind him, the assassin saw he was being pursued and spurred on extra speed. Miro put all his strength into running, his strides lengthening and his breath coming deep and even. All of the work in the Pens was paying off. He was at the peak of fitness.

  The disguised assassin was fast. Miro soon found he was racing from street to street, becoming quickly lost, and the assassin was still drawing away.

  The assassin ducked and weaved behind a series of containers. Miro followed, the awful smell meaning they could only contain rotting garbage. The assassin ducked to the side, taking an unexpected turn. Momentarily thrown, Miro stopped, then saw the brown of the man’s clothing as he ducked into yet another street. Miro ran, twisting and weaving, and then the assassin was again just ahead of him.

  The assassin jumped a steel fence taller than his height, placing only the palm of his hand on the top and leaping over with extraordinary agility.

  As he himself approached, Miro realised he would need to make a difficult choice. There was no support — he could hear no one coming behind him.

  He threw his sword aside.

  With a burst of speed Miro leapt the tall fence, barely touching the top with three of his fingers.

  Looking over his shoulder, the running man turned, and seeing Miro gaining on him, put down his head.

  Completely unarmed now, Miro increased his speed to the limit. He was gaining on the assassin, but what would he do if the man forced an encounter?

  They had by now followed so many turns it was impossible to say where they were. In all directions Miro could see the Wall staring down at him.

  Miro rounded a large building, and a new vista was revealed in the half-light just before dawn. He realised they were back in the port district. Fishing boats were unloading at the dock; the ground was slippery with tiny baitfish and scales. Larger fish were being sorted in containers.

  The assassin jumped a huge wooden bucket. Intentionally or not, his foot kicked the side of the bucket as he leapt, spilling the contents. Fish splattered over the ground, and unable to stop himself, Miro slipped and tumbled, falling amongst the slippery fish, their sharp fins cutting into his unprotected skin.

  Miro rolled and leapt up again. The assassin glanced back and saw his pursuer still following.

  Then he noticed for the first time that Miro was without a weapon.

  The assassin grinned and paused, turning and then walking towards Miro, taking his time.

  Miro looked frantically around for a weapon. Fifty paces away he saw a cleaver lying next to a tray of spindly green fish.

  Miro ran for it, just as the assassin leapt for him.

  Something threw him to the ground, a blast of hot air punching in the very centre of his back. Miro’s wind was taken from him; he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. His vision blacked for a moment, clarity only returning slowly.

  He first reached around to feel his back. It was red, raw, but there was no blood. He was alive.

  Miro turned, wincing. With movements like an old man he raised himself onto his knees.

  Where the assassin had been there was nothing but a pile of burnt flesh. Miro was staring into the dark, dead eyes of four legionnaires. Lord of the Sky, they were huge men — bigger than the heaviest wrestler Miro had seen back in Altura. They wore armour with bands of imperial purple, and all sported the sun and star of Tingara tattooed somewhere on their faces. One of them casually tossed a prismatic orb from one hand to the other, glancing at the double-banded leader, questioning.

  The leader waited a moment, and Miro knew his life hung in the balance. The legionnaire shrugged. "Leave him," he said.

  The legionnaires walked away, striding purposefully, their challenging stares intimidating everyone around. The fishermen and other pedestrians studiously looked in any other direction, wanting no involvement with whatever was happening here.

  Miro looked down at the floor. The enchanted knife lay paces away, its runes still glowing softly but fading as he watched.

  Gingerly picking it up, he began his long journey back to the Alturan market house.

  ~

  THINGS had settled somewhat in the financial district. Smoke still poured from the Halrana market house, soldiers still ran from one place to another.

  The day was beginning to dawn, the sky a menacing red above the imposing grey of the Wall.

  An Alturan soldier saw Miro and immediately called for the captain.

  Captain Sloan came striding up, his face grim. For once, his grey hair wasn’t brushed. "Well, what happened?"

  "He carried an enchanted knife..."

  "Yes, yes, I know. What happened to the assassin? Did you see where he went?"

  "I followed him to the port district."

  One of the soldiers whistled. "All the way there? You ran all that way?"

  Captain Sloan silenced him with a glare.

  "I lost my sword. I’m sorry, I had to leave it. I caught up with the assassin. He looked Tingaran."

  Captain Sloan snorted. "Anyone can look Tingaran. Shave my head and I’d look like a Tingaran."

  "Yes, but he had that look. The same features, you know what I mean?"

  "So what happened?"

  "Four men of the imperial legion. They blew him to pieces. They left me."

  "Skylord scratch the Emperor’s name! We have nothing."

  "I’m sorry."

  "Never mind… Miro, isn’t it? Never mind, Miro. Once again the Emperor has covered his tracks. We have a great deal of suspicion, but no proof we could take to the other houses. Get to the infirmary, have yourself looked at."

  Captain Sloan turned to go.

  "Captain?" said Miro.

  "Yes? What is it?"

  "It’s probably not much use, but I picked this up." Miro opened his hands, showing the knife. The symbols etched into it still glowed. "It’s the assassin’s weapon."

  Captain Sloan’s face lit up. "No, Miro, this is good. This is one of ours. We’ll start looking into how it came into the possession of this assassin right away."

  One of the bladesingers came forward, a slim man with grey eyes, his manner friendly enough. He deftly took the knife from Miro’s hands, holding it carefully. "Shant-lurada," he said softly. The runes deactivated. It was an ordinary knife again.

  The bladesinger spoke softly. "He was a dangerous man, young soldier. You did well. Miro, is it? My name is Huron Gower."

  Exhausted, Miro simply nodded. He turned and left for the infirmary, his back stiff so he wouldn’t show how much pain he was really in.

  12

  Our strategic alliances and proximity to Stonewater, yes, these were advantages. The superior tactics of our legionnaires also cannot be underestimated. But let us not forget Raj Tingara’s lore. It was our meldings that gave us the strength to form an Empire. Before I was proclaimed
Emperor, wars between the houses were common. Now, we have peace.

  — Memoirs of Emperor Xenovere I, 121-1, 381 Y.E.

  ELLA basked in the afternoon sunlight, enjoying its warmth on her skin.

  With the ending of the rains the Alturan summer had begun the gradual decline into autumn. The centurion trees had turned first dark green, then deep gold, the leaves falling softly to the ground before they were raked into piles by the groundskeepers.

  Ella sat on the grass of the Great Court in the shade of a centurion tree, a yellowed book in her lap, oblivious to the other students around her. Occasionally she took a bite from a sourmelon, first making a face at its acidity before the underlying sweetness came through.

  She heard giggling and looked up to see a boy and girl holding each other close. The boy leaned forward to whisper something in the girl’s ear. She laughed and kissed him on the lips.

  With their studies soon over, many of the students were pairing up. A season of dances awaited them after graduation, before their hard work began in earnest.

  "Good reading?" Talwin said, grinning down at her.

  Ella hadn’t really felt like being interrupted. "Umm, yes." She looked up at him, smiling before looking down at her book again.

  "Do you mind if I sit down?" Talwin said.

  "Of course not!" Ella accepted the inevitable and closed her book. She’d have to read about Saimon Bower’s strength matrices later.

  Talwin sat down, a little too close for Ella’s liking. "I thought you finished early on Evendays? This is the first time I’ve seen you about."

  "I do. I guess I just thought I’d stay here for a bit. I love the autumn, the reds and the golds, the chill in the night and warm in the morning."

  He shuddered. "You do? It’s getting too cold for me already. I was just going to head home." He took a deep breath. "Umm... Would you like to come and have dinner with my family?"

  "I don’t think..."

  "Ella, it must be terribly lonely out there in that shack."

  "It’s not a shack. It’s Mallorin. And it’s my home."

  "Come on, Ella. Everyone is talking about it. With your brother gone and uncle passed you need to spend some time with other people."

  "Everyone? Who’s everyone?"

  "I don’t know!" he said. "Ella, people, they like you, they want to be your friends. You just have to let them in."

  Talwin was making her uncomfortable. "Miro will be back any day now. What would be the point of going to live somewhere else and leaving Mallorin to rot? It’s our home. We grew up there."

  Talwin shuffled himself forward, moving closer to her. He picked up one of her hands in his own. Ella froze, not knowing what to do, her hand limply grasped in his.

  "Ella, I... I think you’re so pretty... No... I think you’re beautiful." He gazed into her eyes, waiting for her to say something. "You could meet my mother — she makes the best country pie in the world. She’s really sweet, Ella, you’d really like her."

  Talwin looked up at her, searching for a response.

  Ella looked down at her hand, wondering what she should do.

  Mildly encouraged, Talwin continued. "I’ve loved you for so long, Ella." He reached forward and ran his fingers over a lock of blonde hair that had fallen loose.

  Ella tensed.

  "Please, say something?" Talwin said.

  Ella removed her hand from his grasp. The look on Talwin’s face at that moment was devastating. He gulped. She felt terribly embarrassed for him, for seeing this window into his heart. For not being able to give him what he wanted.

  "Talwin," Ella spoke slowly, softly. The way one speaks to a child. She wanted to choose her words carefully. "I care about you. You and Amber, you are both my friends. I… I’m still trying to discover who I am. What I want from life. At the moment all I know is that I want to become an enchantress. The best enchantress I can be."

  There was a long pause. Talwin looked down at the ground. "Is it another?"

  Ella sighed. "It’s no one, Talwin."

  "Then why not me?"

  She could see such hurt in his eyes. It would be hard to stop him from hating her for causing him such pain.

  "You are my friend, my colleague, the one I study with and joke with about the teachers. You want to become an enchanter, don’t you?"

  "Yes. Of course I do."

  "That’s good. Talwin. You’ve been such a good friend to me. Please, don’t push me away."

  "I’ll always be your friend, Ella." He looked up at her. "Are you sure..."

  "I am sure. Talwin, I..."

  Ella was cut off by the sound of a girl’s voice, screaming her name. She turned to see Amber, running towards her. Ella turned back to Talwin, in that moment catching what she thought was a tear in his eye. She looked quickly away, trying to give him time to compose himself. Without a word Talwin stood up and left.

  Amber was obviously in trouble. Tears streamed down her face.

  "Ella, oh it’s so awful!"

  "What is it, Amber?"

  Ella watched Talwin’s departing back. Did she say the right thing? He was so sweet-natured. She hated to have hurt him. Why couldn’t they just be friends?

  "Oh, Ella," Amber threw herself down next to Ella and cried for a solid five minutes.

  There was nothing Ella could do except hug her friend and murmur sweet platitudes.

  Finally Amber pulled herself together. "My parents told me they’ve chosen someone for me to… to marry." Her voice choked at the last.

  It wasn’t unusual for parents to choose a suitable husband for their daughter, depending on how old-fashioned the parents were. It was the only thing Ella could say she was glad about. No one would ever choose who she married!

  "And...?"

  "At first I was happy when they told me. They’d asked me what I wanted in a husband. I said I enjoyed the Academy, my friends here, the books, the learning. Spending time with you. Your brother." Amber started to choke again. "So they picked me a husband, here at the Academy. They listened to me, Ella!"

  Amber broke down in sobs, sounding like she would drown in her own tears. Her face was red, her hair tangled and nose running. Some girls looked pretty and delicate when they cried. Amber was definitely not one of those girls.

  "I don’t understand. They picked one of the students? Who was it? Warren? Borsen?"

  Amber whispered something, as if to say it louder would make it all the more true.

  "What? Amber, I can’t hear you."

  "Master Samson," Amber said.

  Ella pulled back in shock. "Did you just say Master Samson?"

  "Y… Yes…!" Amber cried. Her sobs grew louder. She howled. The other students in the Court looked at Ella in consternation. Ella shook her head, patting Amber on the back.

  Ella couldn’t believe Amber’s parents had chosen the dour teacher as a match for their beautiful young daughter. Amber was so vivacious, so friendly and open. How could anyone want to cage such a vibrant girl? She didn’t want to say it out loud, Amber was upset enough as it was, but he must be more than twice the girl’s age!

  Her mouth set in a line, Ella determined to see what she could do. There was still a chance. Amber loved Miro, who obviously felt at least some affection for her. Miro would return soon. Ella would make everything right.

  "When is the wedding planned?" Ella asked. How much time did she have?

  ~

  THE first class of the next day was lore, taught by Master Goss. Usually attentive, Ella found herself distracted by the distraught young girl sitting next to her.

  Master Goss’s voice droned. Ella didn’t even hear the words coming from his mouth.

  "As Ella here knows, there is a limit, depending on the matrix and its purpose." Master Goss looked at her expectantly.

  Ella looked up, "I’m sorry?"

  "Essence, Ella, essence. Raj ichor. The cornerstone of our lore."

  Ella was quick enough to recover. "The limit is proportional to the activatio
n cost, more energy requires more essence."

  Master Goss harrumphed. "Correct. Now, I’d like everyone to draw the rune for the colour green on their deskpad."

  It was one of the most familiar runes, being the colour of their house.

  He turned to the wallpad and, taking his glowing pen, started to draw with slow, even strokes. The rune was near perfect, the tiny circle above the cleft in exact proportion to the curve of the arch. Ella wondered if only she could see the minor flaw in the upper crest.

  Master Goss waited while the class followed suit, drawing the rune on their deskpads. He walked down the front row, looking down at the busy young men and women, frowning at some, praising others.

  Master Goss frowned when he passed Ella. She had already finished.

  He returned to face the students.

  "Good. All done? Now, what would I need if I wanted to make this into a matrix for something simple, say… a nightlamp?"

  A tall boy in the middle of the room raised his hand. Master Goss nodded. "The activation runes?" the tall boy said.

  "Correct." Master Goss added a basic activation sequence to the rune for green.

  Ella wondered why he was going over such elementary material. They’d created far more complex matrices than those for nightlamps!

  "What else?" said Master Goss.

  Ella didn’t even raise her hand. A girl near her spoke up. "The deactivation sequence?"

  "Correct." Master Goss added a simple deactivation sequence. "What else? Ella?"

  Ella spoke in a bored tone. "The time sequence."

  "That is correct — otherwise we might have a flare on our hands, rather than a gently glowing nightlamp."

  Master Goss added a time delay to the matrix. Reading the runes, Ella could see no major problems — when activated, the rune for green would cause the enchanted object to glow at the rate and brightness specified in the time sequence.

  A few of Ella’s classmates stirred, evidently also confused by the step down to basic lore.