The Orphan's Discovery

by Shawn Robert Smith

  Contents

  Title Page

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Orphan’s Discovery

  By Shawn Robert Smith

  For my Mom

  CHAPTER ONE

  51 years ago…

  From a young age, Thomas took a high view of himself and when reality failed to meet his expectations he took drastic action to fix it.

  “Take that,” Bran said, slapping a card onto the table face up.

  Vil looked at his hand, and dropped his cards on the table. His head fell into both hands.

  They played The Orders, a strategy game using trading cards of famous magicians. Thomas continued his approach, taking a few seconds as each foot landed from heel to toe. Carel looked up at Thomas and slapped Vil’s shoulder.

  “What are you doing here? Go play by the edge of the cliffs. This game isn’t for scribes; it’s for men and you’re, what, twelve Summers?”

  Thomas sighed. Why did he seek their approval? “Thirteen. You mock my youth but I beat Simon of Mor when he visited last week. And I’m not a scribe. That’s my father’s profession. Unlike you, I plan to wield magic.”

  The three of them laughed at Thomas. Vil even fell off the bench.

  “Vil, play Atwix against his forest creature and then protect Master Gemeni with Master Sophia, Thomas said.”

  After dusting off his tunic, he picked up his cards. He glanced at them and then back at the table. A smile formed on his face.

  “Get out of here. You’ll never be one of us,” Bran glared at him and then fingered the Kithnop egg that hung around his neck. They each touched theirs. Thomas walked away. They’d never accept him unless he stole a Kithnop egg of his own.

  Once inside his home, he went to his father’s office. Higel traveled often for his research, leaving Thomas alone with his mother. She bustled about in the kitchen, loud bangs of pots and pans mingled with her humming a familiar tune. Still, he stepped one foot at a time like he had when approaching the older boy’s moments ago. He perused the books that littered the office, searching for one on Kithnops. He’d get his own egg and they’d have to let him play with them.

  He found one titled, Animals of Fradal and Presau, and opened it. As he flipped through the pages, his nose twitched and brought fond memories with it.

  The book noted that if you left a Kithnop alone, it’d leave you alone. When hunting was poor, some men killed them for food but at considerable risk. A Kithnop was a fowl and had a gamey taste like any other wild poultry. The Kithnop bore razor-sharp claws and tended toward excessive aggression while brooding, leaving hunters with nearly fatal wounds.

  Thomas once ventured near one with his father—the one that lived near the water on the outskirts of town. It hadn’t appeared menacing until it stood up, ruffled its feathers, squawked, and then flashed its claws. How had they gotten those eggs?

  He had an idea. He put the book back and ventured to the docks. Salt-filled wind slapped his face and blew his hair out of his face. Jeth sat in his boat and pulled on a fish net.

  Thomas walked over and picked up a long pole with a net on the end. “Jeth, can I borrow this?”

  Jeth cursed. “Give me a hand, won’t you?” His beet-red faced dripped sweat down from his brow. Thomas climbed in and helped him pull in several dozen fish that flopped around in a frenzy.

  “Where’s Mish?” Thomas asked.

  “Sick. Thank you. Yes, you can borrow it. Bring it back tonight. What do you need it for?”

  “Fishing, of course.” Thomas rushed away before he pried.

  Fear gripped him like Bran putting him in a headlock. Don’t second guess yourself. You are better than them. If they managed it, so can you.

  Thomas left the docks and headed north to where he’d last heard the Kithnop lived. The cool ocean breeze failed to stop him from perspiring. His stomach tightened and his head spun around in circles. A squawk startled him and he slowed his approach. Thomas found cover behind a long row of shrubs and crawled on his belly. The long pole made it awkward when the net caught on some branches. Working his way toward his destination took near half an hour, leaving him filthy. His sweat mixed with the dirt on the ground and clung to his tunic.

  SQUAWK!

  Thomas peered through the leaves, the Kithnop squatting in its nest. When had it tripled in size? Thomas sighed quietly. He waited.

  The bird didn’t do much but sit there. Eventually, it had to find food.

  The sun began to set. Thomas’s mouth became parched and his stomach growled. Now dark, the moon provided the only light. The kithnop ruffled its feathers and stood up. It looked around like a guard inspecting his surrounding after hear a twig break. Then, it walked away, revealing the nest. Three eggs sat unprotected and Thomas took his chance. The shrubs provided little protection but Thomas would not venture out and grab an egg by hand. He lifted the pole and carefully extended it toward the nest.

  SQUAWK!

  Thomas hands shook and his body tensed. He looked left toward the direction the bird went and it was out of sight. He turned back to the eggs and a ruffle of feathers came from his right. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before turning toward the sound and opening his eyes. The Kithnop stood five feet away. It looked at him and then at the nest. It tilted its head as it observed the pole. A claw popped up from under feathers, and then another. Then the other two.

  Thomas wet himself.

  He dropped the pole and ran to his left. The bird squawked continuously, and its stomps signaled its approach. Thomas pushed himself away but the terrain started to climb upwards, slowing Thomas’s escape. He screamed from a burning pain that sliced down his back. His heard had never pounded this hard and fast before.

  A weight pushed him to the ground. He pivoted onto his back and the Kithnop hovered over him. Several claws that dripped red, filled his vision. Thomas raised his hands to block the attack. The foul’s eyes glared at him and it squawked with each swipe. Tears wet his face and he screamed. The fight ceased, but Thomas hurt everywhere.

  Jeth came into view, picked him up and threw him over his shoulder. Thomas groaned. Pain stabbed his right hand. He glanced in between clenching his eyes closed when waves of agony came over him, noting the Kithnop lay unmoving with a fisher’s spear in its torso.

  Jeth brought him to the healer’s hut. A metallic stench that reminded him of a smithy’s shop lingered in the air. The fisherman laid him on a straw bed, shook his head, and left. The town healer approached, pulled out her shears and removed his tunic. She washed his wounds with wet cloths that she rinsed out in a bowl of water nearby. As some of the water splashed out, Thomas saw its crimson tinge. He turned to his side and vomited.

  “There, there, Thomas,” the healer said as she caressed his forehead.

  “What happened?” It hit him like tripping on a root. He’d gone after the Kithnop egg and lost…He looked at his right hand. He’d lost some fingers—half of his middle, his ring finger, and pinky. Pain shot through his hand and he tensed, trying not to scream. Two things became clear to him at that moment: He’d likely never become a wielder of magic and he’d do everything in his power to ruin those three boys.

  Day 6 — Morning

  Knilin brought Linette and Winthrop to his office on the first floor of the Keep. He’d just asked for their help in stopping the decayed. He stepped out of the office, leaving them alone.
Half an hour ago she’d been doing cartwheels outside of the castle, celebrating her freedom. Now, Linette sat shocked from the sight of the dead librarian and two guards. Her whole body tingled and she wiped her eyes on her sleeves. The lack of wall coverings on the stone walls added to her mood. Remembering her first encounter with Master Dulius, she looked up, confirming that no one floated above them, spying on their conversation.

  “Why did you do that?” Winthrop asked.

  “I haven’t been in the Order of the Eagle long, but it’s becoming a habit to check for people above you.”

  Knilin came back and dropped a rolled-up scroll into his top drawer. Linette noticed a green wax seal on the outside. Her dropped it inside his desk before she could make out the seal. Winthrop nodded as if he understood, then turned his attention to Knilin. Winthrop didn’t seem stunned by recent events but then he though Aurora guilty for some time now.

  “Thanks for waiting. I just sent word to the Order of the Ox. Winthrop, you’re leaving to go there this afternoon. We three have important things to discuss before we part ways.”

  “What? I’m leaving today?”

  “Yes, those that passed the test for Ox magic in the cities of Mor, Braleigh, Cordun, and Gluon all meet here before traveling the final leg of the trip to your Order.”

  I’m all alone? Winthrop can’t leave now after the attack on the King and the murder of the librarian. It never fully settled with her that they’d be apart. She hoped that Markus planned to stay at the castle and train as a Decayed. Knowing that, she’d feel the luckiest of the three. Winthrop had to manage alone with the Order now known to have traitors in its midst and with the reputation as Jack the Ransacker’s son. Markus remained a Decayed stuck in the dungeons. She’d start her training and could visit Markus when he wasn’t off testing children for dark magic. Plus, she’d learn from Knilin at some point.

  “Are you going after Aurora?” Linette asked.

  “Yes, I’ve sent some of my apprentices ahead to keep on her trail. I’ll depart once we are through.”

  Linette and Winthrop nodded in agreement. “Be careful Knilin, you just recovered from Travalling,” Linette said.

  “I will.” The grave look in his eyes spoke of a conflict raging inside.

  “Why do you think Aurora killed the librarian?” Knilin asked.

  “She needed something from the Decayed section and it’s locked,” Winthrop chuckled.

  Linette shot him a stern look and his smirk subsided.

  “I have a theory of my own,” Knilin began, “she discovered something hidden in the library but couldn’t risk the guards or librarian spreading that information. The guards will check every book, scroll, or parchment against an inventory list. Yet, I don’t expect they’ll find anything missing. Aurora sought something, and she’s too smart to take it with her. That’d give us a clue to what she’s after. No, she likely memorized it. Linette, I want you to find out what Aurora did in there. Winthrop, I need you to confirm whatever Linette discovers.”

  Linette squinted her eyebrows at Knilin. “How will Winthrop know if a book has changed? That makes no sense.”

  Winthrop nodded in agreement.

  “The Library at the Order of the Ox is a replica of this library. For hundreds of years, the Kingdom has kept this practice of duplicating information. After we took Mapleglen back from the Decayed, we used the library at the Order of the Eagle to verify that nothing had gone missing.”

  “Won’t Aurora know this? Even if she can’t come out of hiding, she has minions to do her bidding. By the time I find this book or scroll, it may already be modified, giving us a false sense of failure to find her change,” Linette said.

  Knilin tapped his fingers on the desk a few times like he wanted to say something but held back. “I don’t think she’ll manage to change the version at your Order but it’s a risk we have to take. When I stepped away, I sent word the librarian there. He’ll allow you full access there and keep tabs on who visits from now on. I’ll do what I can to catch her before she reaches help.”

  “Why did she wait until now to do this?” Linette asked.

  Knilin stood up and began to pace in the small space behind his desk. “I’m not sure but with the ceremony going on, it may have provided a time to give her some privacy.”

  “What do you think she changed?” Winthrop asked.

  Knilin sat back down and leaned back in his chair, “What do you two know about the magical progressions of each Order?”

  “The what?” They both asked simultaneously.

  “The magical progression within your Order. The Order of the Eagle can manipulate gravity, but to what extent? Linette can lift objects and lifted herself off the ground, but can she lift you, Winthrop? Can she create a pocket of altered gravity that if someone walked into it would constrain them to that alteration?”

  King Luther had mentioned that she had progressed in her training, but the flood of emotions from it happening and the resulting release from her killing Geoff distracted her from its implications.

  “How many levels does each Order have and what are they?” Winthrop asked.

  “Seven, in theory, but I won’t go into all of them right now. You’ll both learn about them during your lessons. For now, let’s stick with the Decayed. Their powers and the Order itself is a mystery. Even before they turned, the Order of Man kept to itself as much as possible. All the Orders, of course, have their secrets but they took it to another level. From what scholars have gathered, they never discovered what the seventh level allowed them to do or how to achieve it. Given their ability with Decay, many have theorized that if they can reach the peak of their powers, they can also achieve immortality. Getting that kind of power comes at a cost. It’s my fear that Aurora now knows that secret and intends to use it to leverage her way into power with the Decayed. If the scholars guessed correctly and Aurora barters with that information, they’ll be unstoppable.”

  “But if that information was in the library this whole time, why didn’t someone else discover it?” Linette asked.

  “Other than your initial tests, the Orders don’t reveal how to reach the next level in your skills until you’ve already attained them and when they are written, the secret is never said directly. Plus, less experienced wielders aren’t allowed to read these books. I’ve made a rare exception for the both of you. My scribes have read everything they could find on the Decayed and have never discovered their secrets regarding the final progression.”

  This task grew more and more daunting with each word Knilin spoke. “You’re expecting that I’ll discover the seventh progression of the Decayed when scholars have searched for this for centuries with nothing to show for it?”

  Knilin smirked. “Yes. The difference is that Aurora may have left a trace to lead you right to it. In the meantime, I hope to catch up with Aurora and stop her from spreading the news. But in either case, we need to know what she found so we can prepare ourselves for the coming war with the Decayed.”

  “Linette, I’m giving you the special designation as inspector. With this ring, you can go anywhere in the castle without question, read any document on the premises, and compel people to provide information. If they don’t, you may to punish them. I don’t recommend lashings but sometime in the dungeons near Death might convince them to cooperate.”

  He handed her a ring.

  “The Creator be with both of you.” Knilin took off with all swiftness.

  Day 6 — Morning

  Markus concentrated on his hand movements, perfecting their every wave and flourish. Dark spheres formed in his hands. They pulsed with energy; his arms trembled from the strain. The muscles in his forearms burned, but he had the strength to push more energy into the globes of darkness. He did so. The spheres grew to the size of a medium pumpkin.

  “Not so much. The guards will notice,” Death said. His eyes bulged and he grabbed Markus’s hands, lowering them. It was the same look people gave him when he had beat trained
soldiers ten years his senior in duels.

  Death moved between Markus and the two guard’s line of sight. The men kept their distance from the use of dark magic. They served as an alarm to alert nearby magic wielders should the two try something.

  Markus released his power and let the spheres shrink until they disappeared. The muscles in his arms tightened liked they’d burst, a feeling he had after a few hours of metalworking. Aware of Death’s proximity and the guard’s location as they meandered along the wall, his muscles pumped with blood and swelled from this daily routine. Sweat soaked his black tunic. The sun began to rise, burning off the dew on the grass that surrounded him. Markus practiced dark magic every morning and evening in the Bailey on the south side of the castle. It served as a good practice area and prison for the Decayed. It had only one way in or out and a portcullis blocked that. Fifteen-foot stone walls provided a boundary to the space. Death reminded Markus that even if he broke through the stone walls, he could expect a moat followed by another stone wall before he reached the outside moat. For the plan he and Knilin discussed, he needed to find the Decayed. To do that, he had to escape.

  “Have you ever tried escaping?” Markus asked.

  Death looked at him and back around at the guards, who seemed caught up in their own conversation. “Be careful with what you say.”

  “Of course, but have you?”

  “Yes, and I failed miserably. They put me in solitary confinement for a week after King Luther used his magic to strike me with lightning bolts several times. That was before they removed my small fingers, when I had more power. Since then, I haven’t tried.”

  “I’ll succeed where you have failed. My power grows quickly; I lack only experience.”

  Death laughed. “And when will you do this?”

  “You’ll know, I’ll bring you with me. I see my fate lies with the Decayed. It’s not what I would have chosen on my own, but now that I’m here, I plan to embrace it. I have no intention of letting the Kingdom limit my power.”