by Beam, Brian
With a few rapid blinks, Max broke from his musing. “Raijom’s overnight recovery after my death indicated that he had only required a matter of hours to recuperate from an eldrhim summoning. However, when the barrier I had placed on you was weakened, there were days between eldrhim attacks. I inferred that summoning eldrhims to Amirand from Paigea must therefore take more energy.
“Given that I believed Raijom had ulterior motives in wanting you dead, I found it logical that he would place the burden of the time and energy needed for the process on someone else, likely Prexwin. Prexwin’s aura of negative energy gave credence to my assumption.
“So, does that answer your questions?” Max snapped breathlessly.
Guilt stabbed into my gut and did some twisting of my insides while in there. “Max, it’s not like that. Thank you for explaining, though. I needed to know.”
“I know,” Max replied, his eyes downcast. “I should have known you could not follow one simple instruction anyway.” Max tried to give me a sly grin. I tried to return it. Neither of us was very successful.
“So, Raijom can make the connection between Paigea and Amirand both ways,” I pondered, rubbing my numb hands together for warmth. “What does that information do for us?”
Max gave a tiny shrug. “It just shows us that it is possible. Our only lead indicates that Raijom has a connection to Gualain’s war, so I believe our best chance at finding a way to return to Paigea lies there. Obviously, if Raijom is behind this war, stopping him is paramount. However, even if we happen to find him in Gualain, with his ability to retreat to Paigea, we stand no chance of confronting him unless we also learn how travel between the lands.”
There was no doubt in my mind that if my father was involved in Gualain’s war, it was because Raijom had corrupted him in some way. Raijom had to be stopped. Though I’d hoped doing so would be as simple as confronting him in Gualain, I was prepared to chase him into another world if necessary. I only feared that defeating him would involve fulfilling his prophecy. Still, Max seemed confident that nothing was ever certain, not even prophecy . . .
Anyway, I knew there was still more to Max’s story, so I prodded him to continue. “After you put the barrier on me, what happened to you? It was years before you showed up on the doorstep.”
“I left to travel Amirand,” Max answered ruefully. “I went to the Wizard Academy, realizing that revealing my true nature there would get me a one-way ticket to its laboratory as a lifelong research study, as I almost was just days ago. I gathered what information I could there on my own, but found nothing of use. After that, I traveled the kingdoms, searching for even the barest hint of how to get back to Paigea. I even tried to recreate the spell that had brought you here using my own knowledge, but I could not even deduce where to begin.”
A new anger started to bloom within me, its flaring heat masking the snowy cold. Max had strung me along on a journey that he knew wouldn’t lead to my parents. He’d already traveled the whole of Amirand, yet he still let me pointlessly trudge through the kingdoms in search of something I would never find. I held my anger back with a deep breath, forcing myself to remain calm enough to allow Max a chance to offer an explanation. It wasn’t easy.
“After nearly five years of searching, I was no closer to finding a means of returning to Paigea than the day I had started. I decided to abandon my search and instead dedicate my life to watching over you, to ensure you were always cared for and safe. You were the closest thing I had to family.” Max’s voice caught, betraying his typically suppressed emotions.
“I returned to the farm, wanting to tell you everything, but I felt that you were too young. Even after I revealed my abilities to you five years later, I conviced myself that you still were not ready.” Max paused and shook his head. “I kept telling myself the same thing each year.
“I used the name Max to keep my true name secret. I did not even want the name Jonasir spoken aloud in Amirand for fear it would somehow spread and lead Raijom to you. I even did away with my Paigean accent.” Max chuckled dryly. “Seems silly now, but I did not want to take any chances.
“When you first told me of your dreams, everything changed. Before then, I had given up hope of ever finding a way home. Hearing you speak of Galvin and Kailyth, however . . . it reminded me of how much I cared for them. It also rekindled my fears about Raijom, about why he would have you sent away with the intention of taking your life, as well as why he had taken mine.
“I spent days in thought, trying to puzzle out the whole situation. My instincts told me that Raijom’s plans had to involve him using your father, somehow taking advantage of the power of his position. I started to believe that the prophecy was more symbolic than literal, that it actually represented you stripping Raijom of his power by breaking his connection with your father. Watching you grow up, I could not imagine you ever purposely taking your father’s life. I still cannot.
“All those years ago, my heart told me that you needed to fulfill the prophecy. With Raijom so fearful, so certain that the prophecy could not be avoided that he believed killing you the only answer, I knew that there had to be more to it than he let on. I decided that I would once again search for a way back to Paigea, taking you with me in the hope that you would fulfill the prophecy.”
My lungs started burning, bringing to my attention that I’d been holding my breath. My thoughts and emotions were twisted and tangled, each individual one demanding attention. It was more exhausting than hiking up a mountain with only one leg.
“Just because I had found no answers before did not mean that they were not out there.” Max cringed before speaking his next words. “Still unable to bring myself to tell you the truth, I used your vision of your parents’ royal stature to convince you that we could travel the kingdoms of Amirand in search for where they ruled.”
Max paused, his gaze lowering to my trembling fists. “Korin, I am sorry for the deception. You were an impetuous child. If I had told you the truth, you would have insisted on running headlong out into the world, unprepared, undisciplined, and immature in your youthful ways. There is little chance you would have been successful.”
“Yes, it sure sounds like you were looking out for me, Max,” I spoke through clenched teeth.
Max seemed almost at a loss for words. It was a foreign expression on him. At the time, I didn’t care.
“Korin,” he began carefully, “during my time with you back on the farm, I grew to love you as if you were my own son, the son I never had. Yes, I feared to see the pain that the prophecy would bring you. Yes, I worried how you would feel towards me if I revealed that I had no idea how to find your parents. I could not see any good coming from the truth, and so I kept it secret. I convinced myself that it was for your own good, that you were better off not knowing until I could find a way back to Paigea. I know now it was selfish, and I am sorry. However, at the same time, I still feel that it was for the best.”
My entire body quivered with heated rage. I wanted to lash out, to scream at Max, to just grab him and . . .
I knew that being angry would accomplish nothing, but it was so hard to hold it in. I’d thought that I’d moved beyond the anger, that I’d accepted Max’s years of secrecy. Through the tangle of my convoluted thoughts, I tried to regain that calm acceptance.
I tried to envision where I would’ve been if Max had been honest from the beginnning. Would I have allowed him to convince me to train with Chasus if I’d known about my father and Raijom? Would I have really allowed four years of my life to be dedicated to training, four years that Raijom would be free to fulfill his plans?
With those thoughts came a roadmap of how I’d gotten to where I was. Chasus had been the one to give me the Contract. Using it to work for Galius had put me in contact with the dragon egg that weakened Max’s barrier over me, allowing Menar to know who I truly was. That single event eventually led to the Menar divulging that Raijom was involved in Gualain’s war. If he hadn’t done so, I may have never k
nown. I probably would’ve given up my search and gone back to my adoptive parents’ farm, stuck with a sense of being incomplete, of having failed my parents. I would never have met Til’, Briscott, Sal’ . . . Sal’.
Max had told me once that as a wizard, he couldn’t in good conscience reveal the prophecy to me. He claimed that knowledge of a prophecy could change the way that it would turn out. I was starting to realize the wisdom of that now, even if Max had shrugged it off as a simple excuse earlier in our conversation.
“No apology necessary,” I responded, my body relaxing as my anger ebbed “I understand.”
“It was still unfair to you,” Max insisted. His eyes seemed to follow the snowflakes as they spiraled through the sky. “There’s not much left to tell you. I felt that training with your uncle would not only give you the ability to fight and protect yourself, but also to become stronger in body and mind.”
“Chasus did make me a better man,” I agreed, thinking on how much I had learned from him. His training wasn’t just about growing as a fighter, but as a person. “Though you only convinced me by taking advantage of my boyish desire for adventure.” I actually smiled.
Max chuckled. “Oh yes, the whole fighting monsters, taking guild missions, and camping under the stars thing. At least I did not lie about those. Besides, it worked, did it not?”
Max received a snort and a roll of my eyes in reply.
Max stepped over to me then, standing on his haunches with one paw placed on my leg in a comforting gesture. “You have grown into a wonderful man, Korin, and I could not be more proud of you. You possess your mother’s compassion. You have proven to be a more than skilled fighter. Through your quick thinking on how to destroy eldrhims as they are summoned and your discovery of how to outwit a Contract’s magic, you have also proven to have an intellect that I have only seen matched in your father.” Max’s mouth turned up into a playful grin. “Though, you still have nothing on me in the brains department. You are still a lunkhead.”
Laughter broke through all the emotions bombarding me—the anger, the sadness, the fear. It clawed its way out of my throat and echoed across the lake. “And you will always be an insufferable, furry know-it-all,” I countered. “At least I’ll get a break while you’re hibernating this winter.”
“First of all, that is not funny,” Max scolded. “Second, I am going to ignore your comment and assume you meant ‘I completely agree. You are right as always, Max.’”
We shared that moment of joy, a moment where everything was back to the way it used to be. For that moment, no catastrophes loomed over us. We were just two friends exchanging playful banter.
“Thank you for this, Max,” I said seriously once our laughter receded. “It feels strange to admit this, but I believe you were right in waiting to tell me all of this. I can’t say that I don’t still hold some resentment for your secrecy, but I think I understand.”
“That means the world to me, Korin. This has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do.”
“I’m sure finally letting this out couldn’t have been easy,” I agreed, standing up against the cramps in my legs.
“No, I mean going this long without eating! How about we get some food and get Ithan up for his watch? My mouth is dry enough to be classified as a desert, and my stomach is empty enough to qualify as an abandoned homestead.” Max’s deadpan delivery brought another smile to my face. Only Max could go back to his wisecracking ways not a minute after a conversation that put us both through pretty much the full gamut of emotions.
“Never a moment without food on the mind, huh?”
“Speaking of which, once we get to the next town, we need to buy some ingredients for spicy vegetable stew and maybe try to make some of those meat rolls ourselves. What do you think the spread on them was? Honey, butter, and . . . sage maybe?”
I laughed with a shake of my head. “Were you like this as a human?”
“You have no idea,” Max replied with a grin. “The kitchen staff hated me.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I shot back with more than a hint of sarcasm.
“And Korin,” Max began, causing me to pause as I crouched to pick up the lantern, “I know I have given you more than enough to think about already, but I want to reiterate my belief that Salmaea cares for you.”
“Max, don’t,” I pleaded. That was a pain I didn’t want to deal with at that moment.
Max spoke his mind despite my plea. “Just as I have requested that you not jump to conclusions about your father, I ask that you do the same with Salmaea. Promise me.” Max spoke with the serious tone that I’d long ago learned to heed.
“Okay, I won’t jump to conclusions,” I lied, picking up the lantern. Though I appreciated Max’s assertion, I had no intentions of deluding myself, or of holding on to false hope. It was better to go ahead and take on the pain of a broken heart so that it would not be a distraction once we were in Gualain.
“By Milaz’s blood, I can tell when you are lying,” Max reproved, using the god of deceit’s name to add some unnecessary melodrama to his accusation. “That is fine; do not trust the squirrel. What would he know?” He let out an exaggerated huff.
“He’d know how to collect nuts for the winter,” I jibed, starting off towards the camp before he could voice a comeback. I heard a raspy mutter, and a moment later, Max was climbing up my cloak to perch on my shoulder.
As we approached the camp, Max’s story kept my mind distracted from the cold. I felt that my mind was too jumbled to hope for much sleep. In the end, I was actually up for most of the night, though Max’s words had nothing to do with it. Instead, it was because of Briscott’s fists.
Chapter 35
Good Old-Fashioned Fisticuffs
In the soft moonlight, my attention was caught by motion near the tree our horses were tethered to. The winter-bare tree—one of the few dotting the landscape—curved out from the side of a small, grassy hill. Though I couldn’t visibly make out much in the darkness, I could hear Briscott’s voice in the form of frustrated grunts and curses.
Our camp rested on more level ground a couple dozen paces away, not far from the lake’s bank. Ithan’s shadowed form lay sleeping next to the dying embers of our campfire, thus unaware of Briscott’s frenzied cursing.
“What is Briscott doing?” I asked, confused.
“It looks like he is searching for something, and from the sound of it, unsuccessfully,” Max ventured. As a squirrel, Max had better night vision than me.
“I think you’re right,” I answered warily. “Max, would you mind waking up Ithan for his watch? I want to make sure Briscott’s okay.”
“Are you sure?” Max tensed on my shoulder as Briscott let out a frustrated, wordless scream. “He does not sound like he wishes to be disturbed.”
As I watched Briscott’s frantic movements, I assumed that he was once again dealing with the grief of losing his family and had probably just been unable to sleep because of it. Even though my mind felt as if it couldn’t hold even a single concern more, I had to make sure he was okay. Stupid empathy.
“He probably just needs someone to talk to,” I guessed. “I know him better than anyone here, so I should be the one to do it. Just wake Ithan, and get some rest.”
“Suit yourself,” Max answered as he scampered down my arm and leapt to the ground. “All that honesty wore me out anyway.”
Before Max could make it outside of the lantern’s light, I called, “Max, wait.” Max stopped and turned his head. “Thanks. For everything.”
Max gave me a solemn nod and started back towards the camp. I hoped he understood that my thanks extended far beyond his honesty that night. He was the sole reason I hadn’t been killed by Raijom. He’d sacrificed his humanity to stop Raijom from harming me. I owed him more thanks than could ever be given.
Snow was now coming down in a flurry, forming a light frost on the ground. Briscott didn’t seem to notice me closing the distance between us, even when the circle of orange
light from my lantern encompassed him and his nameless dappled mare. Both of his hands were shoved into one of his saddlebags. He continued to mutter to himself, stringing together various combinations of vitriolic curses. Even I don’t feel comfortable sharing them all in these pages. I’ll just say that he would’ve made a sailor blush.
“Briscott,” I called warily. “Are you okay?”
“Blighted, gods-damned, whore-mongering, hells,” was all I got in reply. That was one of his less offensive chains of curses. He didn’t acknowledge that I’d spoken as he continued to dig through the saddlebag. His cloak was crumpled at his feet, but he showed no signs of being cold.
“Briscott,” I repeated more loudly, again receiving no acknowledgment. When I reached him, I put a hand on his shoulder. “Briscott, what’s—” I stopped short as Briscott knocked my arm away.
“Stand back,” Briscott growled before resuming his search of the saddlebag.
Briscott’s reaction caught me off guard. Stepping up beside him, I drew in a sharp breath. His eyes were wide as if he’d just seen an eldrhim riding Rizear’s fabled fiery steed. Sweat glistened on his paled face, his windswept hair plastered across it. His tongue repeatedly licked across his lips as loud, rapid breath misted beaneath his nose.
“Briscott, what’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.
“Leave me be,” he grunted in return without meeting my gaze. His voice held no trace of his usual friendlieness.
Briscott’s gruffness should’ve made me cautious, but as Max loved to point out every other hour or so, I tended to act without thinking. “Let’s sit down and talk,” I offered, putting a hand on his shoulder again.
This time, Briscott responded by violently shoving me away. I staggered back, lucky to keep to my feet. Pain shot directly from the scar on my chest through my extremities from where his hand had struck it.
