Relic

by Bronwyn Eley

  ‘I want to know more.’ Blunt. Blunt was good. ‘More about what’s happening to me.’

  I heard the door close. Keithan returned, eyes searching mine; I could feel him wanting answers too. His gaze trailed down and stopped at my left hand. He reached out and took it.

  ‘When did this start?’ he asked.

  ‘The shaking?’ I asked, frowning. ‘Shaking isn’t something to worry about.’

  ‘It is when it’s confined to just this hand.’ Keithan looked at me sternly as he held my hand high in front of my face. It shook, the fingers flexing and straightening as if they had a mind of their own. Keithan grabbed my other hand and held it up. It was still, hanging limp and silent.

  I released a breath, realising it wasn’t my whole body that shook. Maybe it had been, for a time. I couldn’t remember. I took my hands from Keithan, wrapping them against my body.

  ‘So?’ I spat. The pity was unbearable. ‘It’s normal, right? Happened to them all?’

  His hesitation sent waves of terror through me until they reached my heart, drawing a cold fist around it. ‘Not always, but –’ He drew in a long breath, eyes darting away from my face. ‘Yes, it happens.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ My voice didn’t tremble. I wasn’t some quivering animal caught in a hunter’s sight. I was angry. The words came out in a low snarl, deep from my chest, as if I really was a wild beast. ‘How long do I have?’

  Keithan gave a small shrug, features twisted in discomfort.

  ‘Keithan, please, what does this mean?’

  He shook his head for a moment too long, drawing a frustrated sigh from me. He sprang forward, grabbing my hand. My jaw clenched shut at his touch. ‘This is an involuntary act brought on by your body. It’s trying to tell you that something is very wrong.’

  ‘I know that,’ I said through clenched teeth. Nothing about dying was right.

  ‘This kind of damage, to have come on this quickly, tells me that your body is succumbing to the effects of the magic rapidly.’

  The words fell heavily on me. ‘And the others?’ I managed.

  I never wanted to dwell on them. One always blurred into another. How many had there been in my lifetime alone?

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Just shy of a month.’

  Keithan pursed his lips. ‘That’s fast, even for the Relic.’

  ‘What. Does. That. Mean?’ My voice was harsh, but I knew my eyes would betray the weakness and fear inside, so I dropped them. The silence stretched, and I couldn’t blame Keithan for hesitating. We both knew what I was asking him to admit.

  No, no, no.

  I was not weaker than the rest. I couldn’t fall now; it was too soon. I would not, could not let it beat me. Not now. Not like this.

  ‘I am not weak,’ I growled. ‘This means nothing.’ I clenched my fist, so tight I felt my skin protest. ‘I am not –’

  ‘It doesn’t make sense.’ He shook his head. ‘Everyone reacts slightly differently. Some have more physical symptoms, others mental. Others seem perfectly alright, until they suddenly aren’t.’

  ‘But it’s not normally this fast?’

  ‘No,’ he murmured, eyes searching the door behind me. ‘Come to think of it ...’ He chewed on his nail, each bite furthering my frustration.

  ‘What?’ I prompted.

  ‘When I saw Lord Rennard the other day, something seemed off.’

  ‘Off, how?’

  ‘The magic of the Relic was …’ He brought his hands up, curled his fingers and tensed, as if strangling the life from something. ‘More intense. I felt it like gusts of wind, or – or rain pelting dust back into the ground. I couldn’t breathe, I could barely think straight. It was so stifling.’

  ‘And that’s so unusual?’ I tried not to sound annoyed. He didn’t have my job. He didn’t have to be around that poisonous man every day.

  ‘The last time I experienced the magic in that way, with that intensity –’ Keithan stopped short, eyes darting to me. ‘It was a long time ago. Bad things were happening. He was … unstable.’

  ‘Sounds about right.’ I shrugged and went to move around him, but he grabbed my arm.

  ‘Well, he’s not always like that, Kaylan,’ he insisted. I pulled myself free and continued to the table. Slipping onto the surface, I let my legs dangle. ‘It’s not always like that.’

  ‘You’re telling me he has good days?’ I huffed, gripping the edge of the table, hoping to still my shaking hand. ‘You know, everyone keeps defending this supposedly loving and generous man, but –’ I barked with laughter. ‘I’m trying to figure out where he’s gone!’

  ‘They’re not wrong.’ Keithan seemed upset to be saying so. ‘But he does seem off lately. Distracted and stressed.’

  ‘He is,’ I mumbled before I could stop myself. Avoiding his gaze, I tried to fend off Keithan’s now-fixated stare.

  ‘What’s happening to him?’

  ‘This isn’t about him,’ I snapped, wishing for one moment to escape him, escape it. Of course Keithan couldn’t understand that; he wasn’t the Shadow. None of them really understood it. Even Jesper got to escape. Sure, in the long run, hers was a death sentence just the same, but at least she had some freedom, some semblance of a life.

  ‘It is if it’s affecting you that way.’ He nodded to my hand, white bleeding into my skin from the pressure. ‘We know his mood affects the magic. If he’s unstable, he’ll be channelling those emotions directly into that thing and it will be going straight into you, whether he means it to or not.’

  ‘So you think the magic’s poison is more potent because he’s upset?’

  Keithan nodded. ‘That’s how it works. His everyday emotions can be dealt with, but severe stress or depression or fear?’ He pursed his lips. ‘That amplifies the magic. I’ve seen it before. It never ends well.’

  ‘Well, obviously.’ I threw my hand up in front of my face. ‘Can we do anything?’

  ‘Not unless you know how to fix whatever problem he’s got,’ Keithan said slowly, eyes trained on mine. As the Shadow, I had more access to Rennard than anyone else. Even Jesper wasn’t permitted in some of the rooms I was. If anyone was to know something about what ailed Rennard, it would be me. Not that I would admit it, but Keithan’s suspicious look was correctly placed. I did know what caused this.

  Or rather, who.

  I shrugged. What good would telling Keithan about Bellamy do? I barely knew who he was or what he had done. If I went around telling people, it might make things worse. Knowing that kind of information could put Keithan in unnecessary danger.

  I looked around at the quiet library. No, he was safer in here. Safer alone. He seemed content with it, too, something I was coming to understand these days.

  ‘It could be anything,’ I lied.

  Keithan sat next to me, arm brushing against mine. I didn’t move away, even though I wanted to. We sat quietly for a moment, both of us taking in the tall stacks of books around us.

  ‘I can’t help you,’ Keithan said quietly. I kept staring straight ahead. ‘I know you came here for my help. You think I can find something in here.’ He looked around briefly before dropping his head. ‘But I can’t.’

  Despite his gentle tone, I found my jaw straining under the pressure of my anger. All this pain, fear and humiliation, and no one was willing to help.

  ‘You’re telling me that there isn’t a single book in here that has any reference to the Relics or any of their past users?’ I didn’t believe it, the fact evident in my harsh tone. ‘I know you’ve read every book in this place. Tell me.’

  Keithan shut his eyes and shook his head.

  ‘Help me, Keithan.’ I turned to face him. ‘Please don’t leave me alone in this.’

  His head shot up, eyes watering, glistening as they darted rapidly. ‘I can’t help you. You don’t need my help. You can –’

  ‘I do,’ I snapped, pushing against the table so I slid further away from him. I needed him to see me
. ‘I do need your help.’

  ‘Why?’ he sighed, defeat lacing his voice.

  ‘Do you forget? I worked in a forge. The only books I’ve read were simplified ones for children. I haven’t read a full book since I was twelve.’ Living in this castle, working in a library, he would have forgotten that for those of us who went into jobs like Blacksmithing, reading wasn’t a requirement.

  Keithan moved to the shelves and began rearranging a messy pile on the floor. With his back to me, he said, ‘So you’re telling me you can’t read?’

  ‘I can read,’ I said firmly. ‘Just not well enough to read these kinds of books. It would take me too long, Keithan, time I don’t have. That’s why I need your help.’ He looked at me, eyes softer this time. ‘I need you to read them for me.’

  He sighed. ‘If Lord Rennard finds out –’

  ‘He won’t. I promise.’ I took a gentle step forward. I couldn’t promise any such thing – we both knew that. ‘We’ll be discreet.’

  I felt my hand twitch. Keithan’s eyes dropped to it.

  ‘Fine!’ he growled, collecting books in his hands. He placed them to the side of the table. Dragging two chairs next to each other, he gestured for me to sit and disappeared behind a shelf. He returned a moment later with a thin, grey book and a thicker green one.

  ‘I’m not promising anything, unlike you,’ he grumbled, shoving the grey book toward me. Just like that, the pity was gone, replaced by a comforting frustration and anger. This was better. This was useful. Pity did nothing. ‘This won’t save you. In fact, knowing might make it harder for you. I think you’re an idiot for wanting to know more. Remember that.’

  I kept my eyes locked with his. ‘I won’t apologise for wanting to know how I’m going to die.’ I tried not to lower my voice as the word fell from my lips, carefully, as if saying it might bring death down upon me then and there. ‘But I’ll remember.’

  Keithan flipped open his book and, for a moment, I watched him read. I could tell he was working hard to remain focused, so I sat back in my chair and picked up the book he allocated to me.

  I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for. Keithan was right. This wouldn’t save me. But Markus said that the Relic would break my mind, too. If I was going to become a danger to those around me, I had to know. And the sooner, the better.

  The ash from the fireplace covered my hands and drifted in the air. Grabbing a large piece of wood, I threw it onto the pile, readying it for Rennard’s return. Before long, the fire was blazing, and I found myself staring into its centre.

  I had just finished putting the fireplace screen in place when the door swung open. I looked just in time to see Thorn loitering in the doorway before Rennard shut it, blocking him from view. Without a word, he took off his coat and threw it on the bed.

  Gathering the bucket of cold ash, I moved to the window and tossed it out.

  ‘Kaylan.’ Rennard was behind me. He had moved as silently as a cat. ‘I want you to join me on an errand.’

  I eyed the dark honey-yellow of the Relic. If my theory was correct, Rennard was not to be trifled with in his current mood. I wished I wasn’t afraid of him, of what his Relic could do. It was over; I was dying. The Relic had done its job, so why be scared? But I knew better. He said I would suffer for a long time. He could do so much worse to me if I inconvenienced him again.

  I focused on the sounds of our feet on the stone as we circled down a stairwell. When we reached the very bottom, with only one exit left, I knew where we were. The dungeon’s damp smell greeted me and its cold air harassed my skin.

  The guard was so still he looked like a statue. The only sign that he was real was the slight tensing of his muscles as we passed. Rennard paid him no attention.

  We passed so many doors, all silent. Rennard finally stopped and pulled out a set of keys. My eyes darted between him and the door as he unlocked it. It swung open, releasing some of the darkness.

  The empty cell before me was enough to spike my heart and I stumbled back. Was this meant for me? Was this what he meant by suffer? Rennard chuckled, shook his head and moved into the room, disappearing into the void.

  I heard a bone-chilling groan, followed by a pitiful cry, the sounds of a man who had lost his dignity as well as his hope. A body scraped against the black stone floor. Rennard came into view, dragging a large, dirty form with him. The man’s legs betrayed him the second Rennard let go. He collapsed to the ground, sobbing into his curled fists. Rennard leaned down, placing a hand on the man’s sweat-soaked back.

  ‘Shoran, I brought a friend.’

  When the man lifted his head, his familiar eyes widened. Mr Alarn was much thinner, his aged face somehow looking years older than the last time I saw him.

  I turned my head away, the image of his kind wife and young daughter seared into my memory. That small shake of his head when I went to intervene, telling me no, don’t risk yourself. It hadn’t made any difference. We had both ended up here anyway.

  ‘– I admire that somewhat, Shoran, but I’m losing patience and time on you.’ Rennard was talking, and I hadn’t been listening. ‘So I’ve brought you a friend. To help the process along. You don’t mind, do you?’

  He smiled up at me.

  Mr Alarn sputtered, nothing more than a whimper in response. I dared a step closer. Rennard released his grip on his prisoner and the once-strong man collapsed to the floor.

  ‘Kaylan,’ Rennard beamed, wiping his hands on his pants. He stepped around Mr Alarn and hovered in the doorway. ‘Get something out of him, would you? Shoran can tell you all about it, I’m sure.’

  I said nothing, did nothing but stare in silence.

  Rennard jumped slightly, as if surprised by an idea. ‘Oh! If he doesn’t cooperate –’ He leaned out of sight, reaching for something. I didn’t hear what he said to the guard waiting outside, but when he came back into view, his large hand was dwarfed by the huge blade he now held.

  He grabbed my hand and pressed the blade flat to my palm. I took it because I didn’t know what else to do. A knife? He was giving me a knife?

  Stab him.

  It wasn’t me who thought it. Not the weak, compliant shadow of a woman standing motionless in the cell. It was Kaylan, the real Kaylan, commanding me to have strength. But I didn’t. The blade hung limp in my hand, threatening to fall to the ground.

  ‘I haven’t found this to be very effective so far,’ he sighed, eyeing the knife. ‘But perhaps in the hands of a friend, with both of you now responsible for the outcome of this interrogation … You wouldn’t want to disappoint your family, would you? It would be horrible for them to know that you were failing in your service to me.’ Rennard grasped the door handle. ‘Good luck.’

  It wasn’t cheerful or encouraging. It was yet another threat – to me, to my family. And then he vanished, pulling the door shut so quickly that a rush of air pressed me back into the cell.

  All light was gone. Carefully, I lowered the knife to the ground and sank to my knees. ‘Mr Alarn?’ My hands trembled as they searched the black space in front of me. My fingertips brushed something. His hair. I rested my hands gently on either side of his face, wishing that I could see his kind eyes. ‘Mr Alarn.’

  ‘I’m alright.’ His voice was different to how I remembered it. ‘Well, not really, but –’ He coughed and I felt something warm spray across my arm. ‘Kaylan, what are you doing here?’

  ‘What’s going on?’ I whispered, afraid our conversation, despite the empty darkness around us, was less than private.

  ‘Kaylan,’ he stressed. ‘Why are you here? Why did he bring you here?’

  ‘I work for him now.’ My voice dropped and silence greeted us again.

  Mr Alarn sighed. ‘You’re the Shadow.’

  ‘The newest,’ I muttered. But this wasn’t about me. ‘Mr Alarn,’ I said bluntly. ‘You were arrested for breaking Article Three. What was he talking about? What does he want from you?’

  Mr Alarn managed a chuckle, but I could almos
t imagine the wince on his face. ‘I’ve been tending to those crops since I was twelve years old, Kaylan,’ he said indignantly. ‘Do you honestly think I’d have let them die?’

  He was right. No one spoke to the plants like he did; no one seemed to understand them better. There was no chance they could have died on his watch. So what happened? Had he been set up? Did someone destroy the crops and use it as an excuse to haul him away?

  ‘It was a cover, then?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes. He doesn’t want people to know why I was really arrested.’

  ‘Why were you arrested?’ I pressed.

  ‘There’s unrest across the five lands,’ he said quietly, sighing into his words. ‘People are banding together, working toward a new regime, a new way of life.’

  I sat back on the cold floor, releasing my grip on him. I heard his body fall back and he grunted.

  I knew it. It was exactly what it seemed like. People opposing the current rulers, the five Lords, meant rebellion.

  ‘Mr Alarn,’ I whispered. ‘How could you be involved with this? I’ve never even heard of it!’

  ‘Of course you haven’t,’ he muttered. ‘Rennard is working very hard to hide it; he doesn’t want the idea spreading.’

  ‘You said he didn’t want ignorant people finding out.’

  ‘Yes. But to those involved, taking me was a warning.’

  ‘You don’t think he’d –’ I sucked in a breath.

  ‘Kill me?’ Mr Alarn laughed. The kind man who helped raise my family, who looked after my younger brothers when we couldn’t, actually laughed at the idea of his murder. ‘No, he won’t. He can’t. According to witnesses, I’m in here for breaking Article Three. He has to release me. I don’t know when – time is different here.’

  ‘It’s been a month,’ I said. He was taken the same day I was. ‘Nearly.’

  He exhaled. ‘Not long to go, then.’ A pause. ‘Why did he involve you, Kaylan? Why does he think I’ll tell you something I wouldn’t tell him?’

  It was a good question. Rennard confused me. He kept to himself, kept his fears and feelings hidden beneath a steely exterior. And yet he dragged me into his biggest vulnerability. I could see the open wound; smell the rotting flesh as disease ate away at his strength, his rule. Why would he let me see that? Why involve me at all?