Thomas obliged and then looked in a small mirror on the wall. The lines were gone.
Day 8 — Afternoon
Winthrop stopped by the library to check for anything from Linette. He opened it:
Winthrop,
I’ve searched Aurora’s offices and found nothing of use. I’d hope to discover something there. In the Decayed section, I learned about a Master Fowley who managed to heal many people with his powers. It’s easy to forget that they were a helpful part of the Kingdom before they attacked Mapleglen. They also used to have Keepers, who had a bond with each other. Have you heard of the two rules? I wonder why they aren’t as well-known now? Something else for me to consider. I hope you are well.
Your Friend,
Linette
He wrote her back, updating her on his time at the Order. He relayed details of Fath and Dymnos and their upcoming time to state their case. Dymnos would present his side after dinner.
Winthrop gained a better ability to navigate the various hallways of the Order of the Ox. He quickly went down the correct path to the dining hall. He filled his plate with a slab of meat and boiled potatoes. The twice a day exercising guaranteed he ate all his food and seconds too. They ran a combination of sprints and slower, but long-distance drills, along with push-ups, pull-ups, and sit-ups.
He tore into the meat, the well-seasoned bite melted in his mouth. Mort joined him which distracted him from the juicy morsel.
“How’d your first lesson go?”
Winthrop finished chewing and swallowed. He wasn’t sure how to balance the two views of this man that clouded his mind. Mort hadn’t run away from him or teased him when they met. He was one of the first people to treat him with some kindness. But if what Dymnos said was true, then his kindness was a ploy to exploit Winthrop’s powers. Both might be true, but did he trust Dymnos? The teacher stood up for him in class but he needed to garner support for his cause. His classmates knew they had treated Winthrop unfairly. Dymnos’ display earlier seemed to make him look good for helping the underdog and for defending one of his own.
“It went okay.” Winthrop didn’t mention his inability to perform magic on command. The bald man eyed him for a few moments while chewing the food in his mouth. The scruff on his face made him look menacing; someone not to be trifled with.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I had my scribes look up your family’s real history.”
He paused, Winthrop thought he waited for a reaction, but Winthrop’s thoughts were stuck on who to trust. He shook that and perked up at Mort’s words.
“I don’t mind. Did you read the real version or the fake one?”
“Both, actually. In either account, they say that your mother died, but no one seems to know how, where, or when.”
Winthrop had blocked this memory from his mind as much as he could. He intentionally repressed it. In a moment of weakness, he let it come back to him like a flood.
The Council of Light visited him and his mom. They informed them of what happened to his dad. Angela, his mom, wept openly before them. She held Winthrop in her arms and he cried too. He fell asleep that night, exhausted from the news. When he awoke the next morning, his mother had gone. After a few days, a traveling merchant came to their village and had asked the town leaders about a body he’d found on his way into town. News traveled fast and Winthrop found out. He followed them a few miles outside of their village and after they viewed the remains and left, Winthrop looked. The body was unrecognizable from the decay. Bodies don’t decay that fast. The Decayed killed her. He found a blouse she wore regularly a dozen feet away.
“The Decayed killed her because of my father.” A tear fell down his cheek. “I hadn’t thought of that until now. The Council didn’t explain why they killed her because that would mean they’d have to tell me the truth about my father.”
“Do you think she knew your father belonged to the Decayed?”
Winthrop squirmed. The trust he gave Mort vanished, and his face turned red.
“Why are you so curious? What’s it to you?”
Mort leaned back, putting space between them. “There’s a lot going on with the Decayed. I have a hunch that a lot of it ties back to you.”
“I doubt that. Good day.” Winthrop stood up and left. It frustrated him he didn’t know who to trust. His anger at the Decayed flared up. I hope Dymnos wins. He wants to end them. He seemed to have the only sense in this place. They needed to be destroyed.
Completely.
Dymnos’ time to speak started soon and Winthrop planned to get the best seat in the house.
He made his way to the auditorium he visited when he first arrived. A few dozen people scattered around, filling some seats. He ventured to the middle and crossed through a row until he sat with a straight view of the stage. It put him higher than where the speakers would stand, but not so high he’d look down at them.
He observed the others there and noticed Shannon and Mikael sitting down a few rows and to the right. His entire class sat together. Winthrop ignored them. He turned around to see if he recognized anyone else, but he didn’t. Some scholars sat together a few rows back as evidenced by their brown robes. They engrossed their attention at a scroll that brought excited squeals every minute or two.
Mort entered and approach him. Winthrop turned to face the stage, hoping Mort might sit somewhere else. He found a spot on the same row, but near the aisle down to the stage. In the meantime, Winthrop kept to himself.
“Winthrop,” Shannon called.
He took a deep breath and looked over at her.
“Come join us,” she said. She seemed sincere.
“Come on, Winthrop,” Mikael waved at him.
The gesture surprised him and concerned him. Was this another prank? He took the chance. He glanced over at Mort who glared at Winthrop. It felt good being wanted, so Winthrop went to his classmates.
“We saved you a seat,” Jared said, pointing at one between him and Shannon.
Winthrop took it and let a smile form. He looked around, happy to start making friends. The room filled up quickly, leaving not an empty seat.
Dymnos took the stage. His large frame exuded confidence and strength.
“Will you hear me speak?” Dymnos asked.
“Yes!” the crowd responded.
“My position keeps in line with history and the laws set forth by the Council of Light. I, Dymnos, want to continue this path agreed on by this Order after the Night of Sorrows. We took back Mapleglen after losing many lives.”
Dymnos began slowly pacing back and forth across the stage as he spoke, pumping his fist in indignation.
“We rooted out groups of the Decayed and brought them to justice for their crimes. It took time, but after a while we stopped finding Decayed. Our Council of Light declared that if any remained, they lacked the numbers to fight back. Our people felt safe again; they no longer feared an attack on their villages and homes. The Kingdom sighed with relief. As a precaution, the Council tested everyone for this evil magic and took measures to stop its ability to thrive again.”
He paused and scanned the crowd. Winthrop caught his every word as did the rest of the audience.
“Now, the Decayed rise again. Somehow they’ve convinced some of our Order to turn against us and the Kingdom. We’ve grown soft. Our Order needs to purge those who’ve betrayed this Order and be weary of those with sympathetic attitudes towards the Decayed and hunt down and destroy any that join them. The Decayed must be eradicated!” Dymnos exclaimed that last part with a fist in the air, the veins in his forearm bulging and his muscles taught.
The crowd stood and cheered. Winthrop stood and clapped.
CHAPTER NINE
Day 8 — Evening
Linette stood on the outer curtain wall on the south-east side of Castle Claybury with Joshua. The sun set over lake Dunami. It glistened from the sunlight as it fell below the horizon.
Linette hadn’t been up here before, thinking it was a place for guards to
walk along during their patrol. She’d seen the lake on her run but having a higher vantage point, allowed her to see the sun glimmer along its surface.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Joshua said. Linette noticed that he looked at her more than the view of the lake.
“Yes.” She smiled.
“I have other good news.”
Linette turned to him. “What?”
“They have promoted me to level five. I can Travall.”
As he finished the sentence, he formed a sphere and pushed it against himself. He turned sideways and fell along the wall a hundred paces. He stopped himself and fell back towards her.
Linette laughed with delight. What fun it would be to do that on her own. Without the lurking fear of her father hanging over her head she discovered a sense of joy she’d never known before.
Joshua stopped right before her and stood up, close to her. His eyes gazed deep into hers and he leaned in slowly for a kiss, searching for agreement in the idea before he swept in. She closed her eyes and let her head move forward a fraction of an inch. Joshua met her there, and they kissed. It was soft, tender. She let it linger for a few moments and then released and hugged him. He returned the embrace, and they turned their bodies to face the lake again. Joshua kept his arm around her and she enjoyed the view even more than before.
After some time, Linette knew she needed to get back to her mission for Knilin.
“I hate to leave but I need to follow up on some things. Will you wait for me?”
Joshua had a pained look painted on his face. “I have to get back. I have a meeting with the Masters now that I’ve reached the next progression. Tomorrow?”
“Yes. Congratulations, Joshua.”
He beamed and left.
Linette made her way to Captain Sewall’s office, finding him pouring over more reports. “Sir?”
He lifted his head and smiled. “Linette, how may I help you?”
“Where is Thomas’s office?”
“I was curious when you’d ask to see it. It’s a mess. Books, scrolls, and boxes everywhere. I found nothing of use but it’d make this old man glad if you did. His office is three doors down from the Amanuensis.”
“Thank you.”
Linette traveled there and tried the latch. She pulled the door but it wouldn’t budge. She asked the scribe manning the amanuensis, and he had the keys, which he used to let her in.
The Captain was right. The room appeared to have received a large shipment of boxes filled with books. She began to sift through them, noticing many that she opened had to do with the country of Thurus and the Order of Man. Higel Jameston was written on every document she looked at.
“May I help you?” someone said.
Linette looked up and a young scribe stood in the doorway.
“Who gave you permission to come in here?”
Linette showed him her ring. He turned to leave.
“Wait.”
He came in but the scowl on his face showed his displeasure at the command.
“Why are these books here?”
“His father died six months ago. They are his belongings.”
Linette jolted slightly from the revelation. “Higel was Thomas’s father?”
“Yes.”
Maybe Higel was his Keeper? Like the Decayed at Mapleglen had no Keepers, did Thomas turn evil when his father died?
“Who are you?”
“I’m his apprentice… I was.”
Linette viewed the room and the load of books, scrolls, and boxes she’d need to go through to find a clue of some sort. Then she turned back to the young man.
“What’s your name?”
“Mylar.” He looked down at the floor.
“Mylar, I’m trying to help stop the Decayed. Is there something, anything you can tell me about Thomas? Anything important to him?”
A tear formed and fell down his face. The scribe grieved for his master.
Linette glided over to him. She took his hand. “I need your help. People may die, otherwise.”
She squeezed his hand. The scribe took a deep breath.
“He obsessed over a letter he saw in his youth. He told me it was related to the medallion he wore around his neck. He never told me the details but his father made him burn the letter. Then, a few days ago, when the boxes arrived, I saw a scroll with the same seal as the medallion. Thomas rushed to the Council of Light for an appointment but his mood had changed from sadness to eagerness.”
“Is the letter here?” Linette asked.
“No, he took it with him. Later, he attacked the King, and they killed him.”
He began to weep. “A part of me hates him for what he did but he was my friend. My teacher and now he’s gone.”
Linette hugged him, letting him cry and mourn the loss of someone he cared for.
She held him for some time, allowing him to finish. He thanked her, and she left. Back at Sewell’s office, she grunted to get his attention.
“What happened to Thomas after he died?”
“We buried him in the woods.”
“Where are his clothes?”
“We left them on him. He was burnt pretty badly.”
Linette hoped the Lion magic hadn’t burned the letter.
“Show me where they buried him and bring a shovel.”
“What? You want to disrupt the dead?”
“No, I want something he had on him.”
Linette waited.
“You’re serious?”
“Give me the shovel. I’ll do it myself.”
“No, no. I’ll help you.”
Linette followed him to a shed outside of the barracks where he fetched a shovel. They left the castle and entered the woods. She formed a sphere, giving them light to see. Linette saw the recently moved dirt and found a log to sit on. The Captain began to dig. For a man in his later years, he uncovered the body quickly and without having to take many breaks. He wiped sweat from his face with his sleeve and set the shovel against a tree.
“I’ll have to use my hands to remove more. Otherwise, the shovel will cut him up, making a mess of things.”
“Stop. I’ll finish.”
Before he could stop her, she jumped into the ditch and used her hands to dig more. She determined his general body-shape and focused on where his pockets might lay. She grabbed a handful of cloth, ripping it. Part of it was charred and had holes littered throughout. She dug around his side more and pulled up more fabric, careful not to rip it anymore.
She found his left pocket, but it was empty and she saw no hint of burned paper. She started on the other side.
“Having any luck?” Sewall asked.
“Just a minute.”
She found the pocket. The outside had been burned black. Linette sighed.
She reached in and touched the parchment. She pulled it out slowly, making sure not to damage it.
The edges were burned in places but it seemed otherwise in decent shape. She opened it and read the letter, noticing the circled letters and the written words near the bottom. Senectus, Library.
Linette folded the letter and placed it in her pocket for later.
“Help me out, Captain.”
He obliged. “Find what you needed?”
“Yes, thank you. I—”
“It’s none of my business. Tell Knilin. If he feels it’s something I should know, he will tell me. I’ll clean up here. It’s late, you should get back.”
Linette thanked him and ran back to Claybury. She caught the scribe from earlier who helped unlocked Thomas’s office as he locked the room to the Amanuensis.
“Please, can I send a quick message?”
He yawned as he unlocked the door.
She read his note and sent details of what she found to Winthrop.
She yawned and decided to sleep in the barracks tonight.
Six months ago…
Thomas played with the medallion that hung around his neck. It reminded him of who he was and of that day w
hen his father confronted him about his abilities in Decayed magic. Higel asked Thomas to drop the letter into the fire and he did so willingly. He tried to forget it but in the few moments he held the parchment; he memorized the distinct impression of a seal. Although he never saw it, he imagined it from touch. He ignored it for years until, in a moment of anger, he drew it and sought its origins. Thomas had traced it to a family from the Order of Man. After weeks of obsessing over their history and whatever he could find about them, he came upon the medallion—a coin with the impression of the seal he’d found on the letter. He’d given up his search after coming to his senses. As a reminder of his betrayal to his father, he kept it around his neck.
He stood on the balcony below the Council of Light as they meted out judgment on those who broke the law. He had the job of transcribing the sentences and announcing the criminals and their crimes to the Council. He finished writing out the punishment details for the last case and then stood before the next criminal.
“The Castle guards discovered Jornod Andrews stealing weapons from the Blacksmith. Moran, could you—.” Thomas dropped the scroll he read from and doubled over in pain.
“Are you all right, Thomas?” King Luther asked.
Sweat drenched his tunic and stabbing pains littered his stomach. He vomited. Embarrassed, he fled the room for his chambers. He ran for the stairs and took them two at a time. His entire body ached, and he struggled against dizziness to make it to a private place.
When he arrived, he fell on to his bed, closed his eyes, and let the room spin. He vomited and fanned his face using his hands. After several deep breaths, the room spun at a slower pace and he aimed his focus on the blank stone ceiling. In time, his body stabilized but his clothes were soaked with sweat. He sat up slowly, careful to not rush the process and incur the wrath of another mind vortex.
Thomas heard the metal latch on his door jiggle and Aurora stepped in. Her eyes went wide, and he turned to look at the mirror on his desk. The lines around his eyes had returned. He snapped his head back to Aurora who approached and sat next to him on his bed.
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