“Come here,” she motioned to Thomas with her hand.
He approached, and she poured the liquid into her hand, forming a black sphere. He thought the sphere had a hint of green in it, but it could have reflected his queasy face. Thomas had seen the workings of magic by other Orders, but never had he seen someone use a vial. Normally, they produced it from within. She pressed the sphere against Thomas and his stomach no longer reminded him of a violent storm. The rocking dissipated and he desired food for the first time in ten days. A rush of power overcame him but he seemed to manage his composure. He looked down at his right hand and in the time to blink a black sphere formed and popped. He glanced around the room and no one seemed to notice. He took a deep breath and smiled. I can wield magic!
“Thank you. I feel much better.”
“Of course, glad to help. Now we can get to why I’ve called your father here.”
Higel turned from his son to the master. “Master Fiona, I’m at your service,” Higel said to her, as he leaned forward onto the edge of his seat. He sought to make his name known with his findings and it seemed he might uncover the great mystery of the Order of Man.
Fiona leaned back in the wooden chair she sat on. “I need your help in discovering how to achieve the highest level in our Order.”
Higel looked dumbfounded. His eyebrows squished together in confusion. Then his face changed into one of anger. Thomas knew the look intimately. He’d caused it frequently during his youth.
“Is this a joke? We spent ten days on our journey here and you insult my intelligence?”
Higel slapped his thigh and looked anywhere but at them.
“It’s not a joke, Higel. I’m serious.”
Thomas glanced at her and then at Vishal. Desperation filled their demeanor, like a cat waiting to pounce. Higel clenched his mouth, a sign that Thomas took as deliberation.
“We’ve called many of your Order, ‘Master’. Have none of them reached the highest level of your Order?” Thomas asked.
“No.” Fiona slumped her head down and faced the floor. “Those we call master have attained the sixth level of progression. Currently, there are no real masters in the Order of Man.”
Higel leaned forward, his face back to a neutral state. “Why come to me? I know little of your Order and history. No one outside of your Order does.”
“We believe the knowledge to be lost… or hidden.”
Thomas perked up at her comment. “What do you mean hidden? You believe someone discovered it and then covered it up?”
“Yes.” She stood up and walked over to a chest. Fiona opened it and pulled out a scroll. Before she unrolled it, she directed their attention to a piece of wood above her door that read:
Protect your Keeper, to keep your life.
Never bear children, to maintain your focus.
“These are the two rules. We’ve lived by them for as long as I can discover in our writings. Yet, in my research, I found this.”
Fiona handed the scroll to Higel. He unrolled it and read from it. When he’d finished, he handed it to Thomas. It was a letter from a Master Krupel. One of the scrolls he read on the boat had been written by him. His father estimated his writings to be eight hundred years old. The substance of the letter was unimportant but Thomas stopped reading when he read this line: Don’t forget the four rules. Always live by them. They will protect us and keep the world at peace.
Thomas looked up at them. “Four rules? What are the other two?”
Fiona took the scroll back, rolled it, and placed it back in her chest.
“I seek the knowledge hidden from me and I believe discovering the four rules is key to finding it. Will you help me?”
CHAPTER FIVE
Day 7 — Morning
Markus kept a steady pace on the King’s Road back to Pinemere. He traveled all night long by horse, stopping only to relieve himself or to hide when lanterns appeared in the distance. He had ridden by moonlight. Markus ran the horse hard, trying to gain as much distance from Castle Claybury as possible. When his steed slowed down, Markus shot a small bit of fire at it, propelling it forward. The horse shook his head and snorted, but Thomas refused to fail at his mission—he had to make it to Thurus and find the Decayed. His thighs chafed against the saddle, but he pushed his complaints away. Riding horses wasn’t a regular occurrence for him. In truth, he only rode during tournament season and then only to reacquaint himself with it.
The sun began to peak over the horizon behind him to the east. The light allowed him to see Pinemere in the distance. A large cloud of black smoke rose from the village. He continued at a full-gallop until he reached it. It took him another two hours, but he rode into town to find it in complete ruin. Death reeked all around him. Every building had burned down to smoldering ashes. Dozens of bodies scattered throughout the village square. He tied the horse near a trough of water and began to move around the small town. He checked the bodies, noticing Ricard, the informal village chief, along with Winthrop’s foster parents. He ran to his dad’s forge and found it empty. He rushed to where his home sat and found nothing but ashes and burned wood. The lack of bodies around it gave him some hope they escaped.
Everywhere he went, he covered his nose and mouth. Traces of dark magic oozed from fatal wounds on the people he found. He searched them all, his anger and hate building more and more with each one. That he didn’t find his parents helped him hold on to a slice of joy. The Decayed came here and destroyed his home, his friends, his neighbors. He ran into the woods, letting the rage within fill him. It fueled his Decayed magic. His muscles no longer struggled to move, but pumped full of raw, unadulterated energy. He formed dark spheres in both hands. This time they approximated the size of a grapefruit, but their depth knew no bounds. He flung them at nothing and everything at once, continuously created new spheres and throwing them with all his strength. Tree after tree lost its foundation and collapsed. Markus barely noticed the towering wooden giants falling all around him. His forearms and biceps swelled like they’d burst from the volume and quality of the magic he released. He threw orb after orb of magic, until he screamed from the bottom of his soul and stopped throwing the balls of darkness. The final dozen trees fell with earth-shaking impact and Markus dropped to the ground, exhausted.
He took several minutes to catch his breath and compose himself. Dozens of trees lay on the forest floor. The destruction he caused surprised him. Markus hated himself for being a Decayed. He hated them for what they brought him to. They murdered his village and possibly his parents. What made all this worse was that to infiltrate them and help the Kingdom put an end to their evil, he’d have to become like them. He’d have to go against his principles and be everything he hated. The sad thing about his testing for Decayed powers was that it had opened his eyes to faults in himself that he failed to notice before.
For years and years, he ignored Geoff’s abuse of his wife and Linette. He busied himself with metal working, tournaments, and anything else that brought him glory. He reveled in his father’s pride, but left Linette to live in fear and receive regular abuse. Even Winthrop had had the courage to stand up to Geoff, while Markus justified his inaction with the same attitude that the rest of the village had: it’s none of my business. I should have saved Linette from her father’s abusiveness. He wept at Linette’s continued friendship despite his utter failing as a friend, a friend who could have done something about the abuse.
While young and inexperienced in life, Markus proved his talents in jousting, dueling, and tests of strengths against grown men. While Geoff stood taller than the average man, Markus matched both his height and weight.
This mission felt wrong, but Markus saw that this opportunity came but once in a lifetime. The Creator gave him his strength, his talents, and his undying determination to meet this challenge and help save the Kingdom. He’d do it and better than anyone else could.
Determined, but utterly exhausted, he worked his way into the woods, found a clear place on
the ground and fell asleep.
42 years ago…
“Yes,” Higel replied, “but—”
“—you want something in return. You want to know the inner secrets of our Order,” Fiona interrupted.
Vishal glared at her.
“Like you, I seek power. Of a different sort, yes, but power nonetheless. I’ve made a name for myself in the scribe community. I’ve reached a certain level of fame. Yet, I desire a legacy. Providing the world with thorough documentation of your Order would achieve that which no one has accomplished since the days magic started. Timota Lodges wrote the foundational texts on the other three Orders. Volume after volume of their abilities, how they structured their Orders, and hints at how to reach each level of mastery. Her name is known by every scribe. I’d like the same.”
Thomas knew his father sought to reach acclaim amongst his scholar acquaintances but never knew he desired so much more than that.
“Higel, I’ll give you what you want. We will grant you access to our libraries and vault of secrets. You may write your magnum opus but you or your son may not speak or publish a word until you discover the truth of how to become a master in my Order and provide it to me. Are we in agree—?”
“Wait, Fiona.”
Thomas noticed a grimace cross her face. She nodded to Vishal.
“The deal is for the Order of Man and not for Keepers. Yes, you’ll learn a few things about us on this path but we are firmly against this research. We are not part of the deal.”
“What say you, Higel?” Fiona asked.
“It’s a disappointment to have what seems to be an important part of your world held back but I’ll accept.”
Higel nodded. Fiona looked to Thomas. He nodded.
“Then let’s have a drink to commemorate our deal. Vishal, fetch the nice glassware.”
Vishal rushed off to the other side of the hut. Fiona turned away and opened another chest. The chest full of vials filled with magic sat before Thomas, ready for the taking. His father had his attention on Fiona, giving Thomas the opportunity. He nabbed three vials and deposited them into his cloak pocket. His hand tingled as he transferred them but thought it the rush of excitement of holding magic.
Vishal returned and Fiona turned around holding a bottle half-filled with amber-colored liquid. She filled the four decorative glasses, and they each drank.
“Tell us, Master Fiona, what do the two rules mean?” Higel took another sip.
She downed the rest of her glass and filled it again. Vishal looked stiff like he prepared himself to knock her unconscious if she appeared to give away too much.
“Superficially, they mean what they say. ‘Protect your Keeper, to keep your life.’ It means—”
“—It means I would sacrifice my life to save hers. The rule reminds one from the Order of Man that if something happens to your Keeper, then you leave yourself vulnerable to attack,” Vishal said.
What was Fiona going to say? Her Keeper protects her from herself.
“The second refers to our intense training. Our Order keeps us occupied day and night with little rest. Having children complicates things and would deprive us of time and energy needed to be successful.”
Higel nodded, showing contentedness with their response. What are you hiding? They held something of significance back and this would only push them to discover the answer as quick as possible.
“If I may be excused, I’d like fresh air.”
Fiona stood. “Did the magic not help?”
“It did, but it helps me think and humbles me.”
“Humbles you?”
“Yes, if something invisible can impede me, then something tangible, no matter how small, has infinitely more potential.”
Thomas left, chuckling to himself. He wanted to study the magic more in private. He wandered into the city of Thurus. No one stopped him at the gate. It surprised him at first, then he observed dozens of people with large crates and wagons move goods in and out of the port town. The city wouldn’t dare slow down trade. That might hurt their tax revenues.
Shade coverings fluttered from the ocean breeze, sheltering goods from the midday sun. Thomas walked along the center pathway, noticing the various items for sale: fish, fruits, trinkets, clothes, and health tonics, among many other things. He heard customers haggle with merchants over prices. He did not find a beer merchant until he ventured deep into the city. Three large kegs sat on sturdy wooden tables, each labeled with details. Two men dressed in heavy clothes stood near and drank a mug of dark liquid with foam on the top. On a break from work, they must have come here for some hydration.
“Care for a glass?” the merchant asked. He filled one, expecting to know the answer.
“Yes, please. How much?” Thomas took the drink and gulped down a mouthful.
“Ten shillings.”
“Thomas almost spit out what remained in his mouth.
“That’s outrageous. For only one?”
“The Lord of this town controls alcohol here. People don’t complain because otherwise he’d raise taxes on other goods. It’s a balance, you see.”
Thomas tossed him the coins. He downed the beer without savoring it. He walked away and by habit, put his hands in his cloak pockets. His right hand grabbed the vials and began to tingle again. Will this work?
Wanting to inspect them privately, he found an opening between two merchants, bringing him to a small walkway that led in between the backsides of traders that faced different rows. The shade coverings fell to the floor here, giving him some semblance of privacy. Thomas pulled out one of the vials. The magic inside seemed alive. The shade of black seemed darker than what Fiona used to heal him. Inside it moved like calm waves along a shore.
He dared to open the vial and pour it onto his hand like he’d seen Fiona do. Thomas expected it to act like water, instead it formed a sphere that floated above his hand a few inches. The power of it filled him. His muscles tensed and a thrilling feeling filled him. Frustrated with the city Lord and his overpriced brew, Thomas traced his way behind that tent and lifted it slowly. He peeked inside enough to find the legs of the table that held the alcohol. Thomas pushed the sphere of magic against it. It absorbed into the leg and Thomas dropped the tent cloth. He waited but nothing happened.
Finding his way to the front again, Thomas tried to look at the leg from another angle. It appeared discolored and worn but held still. Famished, he scanned his surroundings for some food. His forearm pulsed from exhaustion like he’d spent an hour swinging his broadsword around. After purchasing a drumstick and devouring it, he turned his attention back to the table that held the keg. Some men lifted the back covering and removed one barrel of alcohol. Two men lifted another barrel together and placed it on the table.
CRACK!
The leg snapped, and all three crashed and cracked, flooding the tent and the ones nearby with wasted alcohol.
Thomas laughed to himself. No one would stop him from becoming the greatest wielder of magic.
Day 7 — Afternoon
Linette doubted she’d ever grow tired of running along the path between Castle Claybury and the Order of the Eagle. The wind blew and the grassed moved like waves. It filled the air with its scent. The sight of the Castle took her breath away every time she drew close enough to see it. When she saw the Order, it usually meant mealtime or a time to rest—both she looked forward to after running for so long.
Linette loved every minute of her time at the Order of the Eagle. Each second here, wasn’t a moment longer with her father. She ran at her own pace, but when at the Order, others asked her to join their training or sit with her at mealtime. Running and wielding magic came naturally to her. Knilin let Master Dulius know that she needed to spend ample time at the Castle and not to intrude on that time. This allowed her to run to Claybury, search for clues left by Aurora, and then run back to the Order. Since they ran this path several times each day, she spent a few hours each day searching. Yet, she promised herself to come bac
k after dinner each evening and block off two uninterrupted hours for her task. The short bits throughout the day lacked the depth required to follow through on every idea she had about where to look.
She ran there now, but the beef stew at dinner weighed her down. Halfway there, she heard the unmistakable footsteps of someone running behind her. She glanced back, confirming that someone approached. Night disabled her from knowing who else had decided on a late-night run, but it didn’t surprise her, given that many from her Order ran along this path. She maintained her pace, guessing they’d catch up within a few minutes.
Sure enough, someone reached her and matched her pace, stride for stride.
“Linette, what brings you out here tonight?” Joshua asked.
She smiled internally.
“I have an errand that needs attending at Castle Claybury.”
“What kind of errand?”
“The kind I can’t tell you about.” She said between breaths.
“Don’t trust me? I promise your secret is safe with me?” He smiled at her. Her knees wobbled and she almost fell over.
“It’s not that at all. I’m sure you’re a trustworthy individual, but it’s a task that Knilin gave to me.”
“Oh.” Joshua had a pained look on his face.
“Not much love for Master Knilin?”
Joshua took a few quick deep breaths.
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?” Linette asked.
“Ambition. I want to be the youngest wielder to reach the level of Master at the Order of the Eagle.”
The Castle began to come into view and the torches that lined the entrance and the gate stood out against the darkness.
“So Knilin is your competition?”
“Yes. He made my goal difficult.”
“When did Knilin become a master?”
“In his sixth year. That means, I have three years to progress three more levels.”
The Orphan's Discovery Page 6
