by Beam, Brian
By the time we found our way through the meandering hallways and out of the castle, there were no Paigean soldiers to be found. We assumed that with Lyrak dead and his control stricken, they’d been called back to Paigea. I wondered what excuse the soldiers would be given for their recall. Would they be told that Amirand was no longer a threat? That they were needed in Paigea to help control the civil wars there?
The soldiers that had worn Lyrak’s emblem on their armor turned out to be willing volunteers wishing to return Gualain to its former “glory.” Not many Gualainians—especially those who’d been forced to fight alongside them—had any intention of letting their actions go unanswered. Not surprisingly, few of those soldiers still lived. Those who did were in the process of being imprisoned or in hiding.
The effects of the war would likely take years to repair, but seeing everyone inside Bherin’s walls come together to ensure everyone had food, water, shelter, and care for their wounds, I experienced a hope I’d thought lost. Even without a king to guide them, the people of Bherin kept the handling of the aftermath organized, efficient, and under control. I hoped that Til’ and Ithan were somehow able to see the amazing effects of their sacrifices.
Naturally, questions circulated about the fates of Harken Rethyn and Galvin Lemweir. We felt it in our own best interests to not report Harken’s death ourselves; the last thing we needed were the questions and accusations that such a revelation would provoke. We doubted his body would go long without discovery anyway.
Once we were able to get hold of a litter, we retrieved Til’s and Ithan’s bodies. Before leaving the room, we laid Harken on the table, covering him with my cloak to provide him at least some measure of pride for when he was found. On our way out of the castle, Max used what little magic energy was left in the Reservoir to mark a path to Harken’s body, one that would appear in a few days’ time. The magic path would lead whoever came across it straight to Harken, if he hadn’t been discovered by then.
We felt the truth about Lyrak was best left buried and forgotten. My brutal attack had left him unrecognizable, hopefully ensuring that his body would be assumed to be that of Galvin Lemweir, the man whom the Gualainians believed had led them to war.
Late evening found us standing just outside Bherin’s walls, our fallen friends buried beneath a towering oak. The gibbous moon bathed the world in soft, ethereal light as snow swirled around us. The wind and distant clamor from the city were the only sounds that cut through our reverent silence.
It felt as if all tears had been shed, all words had been spoken, and all hearts had been broken as much as they could break. Guilt threatened to tear me apart, but I knew that letting it do so would dishonor the deaths I’d been responsible for. I needed to stay strong in order to honor their sacrifices. Somehow.
“I’d like to say a few words,” I announced, turning to the others. Max was perched on Sal’s shoulder. All three watched me expectantly.
“One of the greatest men I’ve ever known once spoke these very words,” I began, my voice already threatening to break. Turning to the graves we’d dug, I squatted and placed the first two fingers of one hand against my forehead and the first two of the other against the ground. After a deep breath, I began to recite the Kolarin funeral passage Til’ had offered upon Bhaliel’s death. “As the body dies, the soul is reborn. As this life ends, the next begins. As you leave this world, you are remembered. As you enter the next, you begin anew. May Loranis bless your soul and take you into his loving arms.”
I heard a rustle and looked up to see Sal’ and Briscott kneeling in the snow, mimicking the placement of my hands. Max remained atop Sal’s shoulder, but he had one paw to his forehead, his eyes shut.
I brought the tips of my fingers together as Til’ had with Bhaliel so long ago. Max, Sal’, and Briscott followed suit. I bowed my head and whispered, “Thank you.”
Three voices echoed my words.
Chapter 60
Making a Prophet
“Loranis save us all,” Briscott breathed, cringing. “I don’t believe Loranis is just gone. Surely he must still be present, guiding us with his loving hands.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. I wasn’t going to argue a point against a man who’d been comforting himself with the belief that his slain family was being watched over by the very god Lyrak claimed no longer existed.
Sal’s hand tightened around mine. “To think, this has never been about Raijom at all. Rizear is the root of everything.” You could see the blood actively draining from her face. I’m sure the same could’ve been said of me.
“Ahshtill shay ihmaksh a lut of shense,” Max mumbled around a mouthful of boiled potato from atop the round table where we were seated. He lifted his head as we stared silently at him with varying degrees of confusion. With a huff, he shook his head.
Swallowing his bite, he repeated, “I still say it makes a lot of sense. Eldrhims, the dragons’ words, Raijom’s sudden change all those years ago, everything.” He stood on his back feet and pointed at me with an accusing paw. “I told you your father was not involved in this.” With that, he dropped back to his potatoes and roast.
We’d been provided accommodations by a task force formed to organize placement for those in the city who needed it. They’d assumed us to be displaced Gualainians. We didn’t argue. We needed the rest and food. Even if the tiny room we’d been given at the local inn was cold and a bit cramped, it was better than sleeping outside.
The night before, after putting Til’ and Ithan to rest, I’d revealed my experience with Lyrak and what he’d told me. To say the others were surprised would be like saying the ocean is a big puddle. Now, the morning after, plans had to be made for our next steps.
I pushed a piece of potato around my plate with my fork, worry consuming my thoughts. If Raijom was only using my father’s image as Lyrak had, would he have kept my father and mother alive?
I slid my plate aside, appetite forgotten. “Max, do you think Rizear’s essence fragment died with Lyrak?”
Max bit his lower lip with his prominent incisors. It was yet another strange expression for a squirrel. “You are venturing into territory that is far beyond my knowledge. In all probability, it is likely beyond the knowledge of anyone who is not a god.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The fear of someone else being consumed by the essence fragment and rising in Lyrak’s place gave me a headache akin to having a boulder dropped on my head.
“I think the blighted fragment died with him,” Briscott opined. “The dragons believed they could rid Amirand of Rizear’s power by killing the one using it. We did just that.”
Sal’ stroked her thumb across the back of my hand. “I felt the same wrongness emanating from Lyrak as I’ve felt in the presence of eldrhims, the undead, and Prexwin. Just looking at Lyrak, though, I could see it. It was like a black, writhing aura projecting from within his body. When Lyrak died, that aura, and the sensation it created, were simply gone. Maybe Rizear’s essence was bound within Lyrak’s body and was therefore destroyed along with him.”
“I hope you’re right,” I sighed,wishing there was a way to be certain.
“Where do we go from here?” Briscott inquired, smacking his fork against the palm of his hand to the tempo set by the nervous tapping of his foot.
“We go to Paigea,” Max replied bluntly. “We take our fight to Raijom. We end this or die trying.”
Briscott slammed his fork onto the table, rattling plates, cups, and silverware. His eyes flared with conviction. “Only, now we can take Amirand’s armies with us. We can bring the fight to Raijom.”
Max calmly shook his head, swallowing another bite of roast before explaining. “Raijom has spent nearly a quarter of a century under Rizear’s influence, yet he has been unable to bring down the barriers in that time. That said, I am willing take a couple of days to rest and figure out how to use this bracelet. However, I am not willing to take the years that would be necessary to convince even a single Amirandi
an king that Rizear’s essence has been released into the world, has taken residence in human bodies, is attempting to tear down barriers created by Loranis to protect us—revealing that Amirand is but a single piece of a greater world—and is trying to take over said world.” Max gave a shrug of his tiny shoulders. “But that may just be me.”
“Rodent,” Briscott muttered.
We were all a bit on edge, riding the fringes of the turbulent emotions from the day before while concurrently trying to come to grips with what lay ahead.
“Briscott does make a good point, though,” I interjected before an argument could start. “I’ve been thinking about what help may be available to us in Paigea. If we can prove Max’s and my identities once we’re there, as well as establish Max’s innocence, then we may be able to build up an army of our own after we cross over. If Paigea’s in as much chaos as Oreon claimed, then it may be fairly simple to convince many to turn against the Prime Sovereign.”
“Except for the blighted fact that Raijom will be mercilessly hunting us down while we try to do so,” Briscott rebutted.
“According to what Lyrak told me, Raijom doesn’t know I still live,” I continued, ignoring Briscott’s curtness. “We’ll have to be mindful of who exactly learns of our identities, but with the right amount of caution and secrecy, we should be free to move about Paigea right under Raijom’s nose without fear of drawing his attention.”
Max’s cheeks puffed out in a big smile. “That is actually quite brilliant, Korin. You never cease to amaze me with just how much like your father you are. You would make a wonderful Prime Sovereign.”
I couldn’t help but smile from the pride that Max’s words instilled in me. It was too bad I had no desire to ever follow in my birth father’s footsteps, even if given the chance. Ruling kingdoms was well beyond my aspirations in life.
“If the bracelet links to a specific location, though, it may put us within Raijom’s reach immediately,” Sal’ ventured.
“Exactly, Salmaea,” Max replied, his smile dropping. “There is little chance that Raijom is unaware of his messenger’s fate. Even if he believes the bracelet useless now, I doubt he will be taking any chances. Whatever location this bracelet is tied to, you can be assured it will be under heavy surveillance. We would be stepping right into a trap.”
“If he’s blighting expecting us, what are we supposed to do?” Briscott questioned.
The answer hit me before Max could answer. “You’re going to do exactly what you did when I was sent from Paigea to Amirand, aren’t you? You’re going to disrupt the magic of the portal once it’s opened.”
Max nodded, his expression smug.
Several issues with Max’s plan sprang to my mind. “And if it sends us to a completely different world? What about if it opens over the ocean, or in the Zoraf-blooded ocean, for that matter?” Zoraf’s the god of the ocean, just in case you weren’t able to puzzle it out on your own. “What if we get dropped from the sky?”
“Yes, it will be a Ritis-blooded chance, but one that we will have to take.”
“But we can test it, right?” I asked. “One of us can go through to see where it leads before we all go through, right?”
Max stood and crossed his arms. “Korin, I know a lot about magic, but this whole portal concept is new to me. I have no idea how long one can be kept open, or how to even keep one open. If anyone went through to scout ahead, they could possibly end up being trapped, and we would almost certainly be unable to find them. I think we just have to roll Phrangastus’s bloody dice and all go through together.”
“If we get the blighted bracelet to work in the first place,” Briscott added.
“Yes, that too,” Max agreed.
Briscott pushed his chair back from the table. “I need some air.”
As he turned to go, I called after him, “Briscott, I know you’re frustrated. This has been hard on all of us. If you want to remain here in Amirand . . .”
Briscott turned, smiling as he scratched his beard. “No, I just figure I’m owed a decent sulk. I’ll be okay. You’re not getting rid of me just yet.” With a half-hearted chuckle, he left the room.
“I am actually glad he is gone,” Max spoke once the door shut. “I need to talk to you, Korin.”
I didn’t like the gravity in his voice. I looked to Sal’, but she quickly turned away, casting her eyes to the floor. “About what?”
“Korin, when you blacked out back in the castle, what did you see?”Max inquired.
“Nothing,” I replied. “I saw a flash of silver light, and then nothing.”
“I’m talking about in your mind, Korin. What did you see in your mind after you blacked out?”
I lowered my brow, confused. “You mean my dream?”
Max nodded.
So I told him, not understanding what he was getting at.
“Do you know where you were?” Max asked. “The city you saw in your dream?”
I shook my head.
“What you saw was Lantrim, capital city of Tolin, the home of your father, the Prime Sovereign.”
“That’s not possible. How could I know what the city looks like?”
Max made a circling gesture with his paw. “Korin, I think what you saw was a vision, maybe even prophecy. I believe you may be a prophet.”
My reaction? I laughed. “That’s ridiculous, Max. You’ve said yourself I have no inclination for magic. Besides, Sal’ can see and feel when people can use magic. She would’ve noticed a long time ago if I were a prophet. Hell, she scanned my entire body when Prexwin planted that tracking spell in me. Don’t you think she would’ve detected something?”
“Korin,” Sal’ spoke sheepishly. “I never sensed any magic ability within you before, but yesterday in the castle, while you were unconscious, I did. I can’t see anything now, but while you slept, it was there. You have magic within you.”
The thought was no longer funny. “But . . . I don’t understand.”
Max dropped to all fours and stepped forward. “I do not know, Korin, but the dream you described sounds a lot like prophecy to me. You saw things you should not have been able to see. It would explain why we couldn’t wake you. Obviously, I am no prophet, but I do know that until the body of a prophet acclimates to their ability, it often shuts down when prophecies surface.”
My mouth went dry. I took a swig of water. It didn’t help. “My parents weren’t even wizards,” I argued, still certain Max had to be wrong. “What, are you going to tell me that Raijom’s my real father now?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Do not be a lunkhead. Such things only happen in stories.”
“How would this ability have come about, then?” I asked.
“Your mother, Kailyth, comes from a long line of wizards,” Max explained. “Though she has no magic ability of her own, I believe that she passed something on to you, something that has been lying dormant all these years. My guess is that you only possess a small measure of magic ability, maybe solely in the form of prophecy. Either it has taken this long to fully manifest, or it needed something to help it emerge.”
My heart was pounding by this point. “Like when you drew magic energy from me,” I ventured.
“Possibly,” Max answered, his eyes reflecting my shocked expression back at me. “Even if Salmaea sees nothing now, I believe that your prophetic ability is still there, latent and out of your control.”
“Do you think it’s possible for me to learn to control it?”
Max looked away. “Prophecy is not something one can call forth at will. If you are a prophet as I surmise, the visions will come to you whether you would like them to or not. However, it is possible that we can draw your ability out so that your body can adapt to it. At least then you could handle prophesying without a complete shutdown.”
“I’ve had other dreams that may have been prophecies,” I whispered, fear lancing pain through my chest. “In one, I saw that my father wasn’t the one ruling Gualain, though I didn’t understand wh
at it meant at the time. Max, another showed me killing you, Sal’, and Til’.” Tears blurred my vision. “If that was prophecy . . .” I couldn’t finish.
“Stop it, lunkhead,” Max snapped. “The number one rule of prophecy is that nothing is ever set in stone. Nothing. The second rule is that prophecy is vague and can as easily be symbolic as literal. The final rule is for you to quit whining.”
I gave Max an exasperated glare and a huff to rival his own, despite being ready to break into tears.
“Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. The final rule is that knowledge is power. We can use what you have seen to our advantage.”
“If that’s the case, Sal’ stays behind,” I decided. The next thing I remember is landing on the floor with a handprint-shaped ache across my cheek. I looked up to see silent fury burning in Sal’s eyes. She didn’t have to say a word.
“Or she goes with us and we’re just really careful,” I amended, rubbing my cheek, close to breaking into tears for a completely different reason now.
Max laughed, spitting small chunks of roast on the table. I couldn’t see how he was still eating; his belly looked distended to the point of bursting.
“Laugh it up, furball,” I muttered, getting back into my chair. I turned to Sal’. “Sal’, I’m sorry. I just . . . Ithan and Til’ . . . their deaths are on my hands. In my vision, I was the one who killed Til’. If Max is right about me, then you and he could possibly be next. I couldn’t bear it if either of you died, let alone if I were the one responsible.”
Sal’s expression softened. “Korin, their deaths are not on your hands.”
I felt the heat of anger stir within me. “Can you honestly tell me that Ithan would still be dead if I hadn’t killed Lyrak?” I knew I was yelling, but it felt good. Another smack sent my chair tilting, but I was able to stabilize it before suffering another fall.
“If we’re going to place blame, let’s start there,” Sal’ fumed. “Lyrak attacked Briscott, and Til’ saved him, something not even remotely your fault or within your ability to prevent. Lyrak’s attack angered you to the point of losing control. That would put him to blame.”
