Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  Vivek waved an arm casually. Light and color spun in front of them, blending into a black oval that hovered inches above the ground. It was like a window into dark waters, taller than both men. Vivek walked through, unconcerned, as if merely crossing the room. He disappeared in the blackness, leaving a ripple of wobbly color behind. ANduaut placed a reluctant hand into the void and pulled it back nervously. He wiggled his fingers and hesitated to test the waters again. Reaching out from the void, a hand grabbed ANduaut’s wrist, abruptly jerking him through.

  They appeared in a dark, cold place that smelled of stale air and fish. It took several minutes for ANduaut’s eyes to adjust, and even when he could see, it wasn’t very far. They stood on a stone patio that was too many stories high to see the dark ground below. Gently glowing moss on seashell-covered walls barely allowed him to make out the Vivek.

  “What is this place?” he asked, rubbing his arms for warmth.

  “It’s called Azaktrha,” Vivek answered. “It’s an ancient city.”

  “I don’t want to be here,” ANduaut said firmly.

  “Can you swim?” Vivek asked.

  “Not well,” he said with a frown.

  “Then you won’t be leaving any time soon,” Vivek said. “Do your job, and I’ll bring you home.”

  “Fine,” ANduaut huffed. “What is my job?”

  “There’s a young woman here that you need to find, and save.”

  “Why am I saving her?”

  “You’re saving her for me,” he said with a broad grin.

  7

  “Nice work, Your Maje...Victoria,” Hector said with a nod.

  “Thanks.”

  She shook mud and snow off her hands before taking a final look over the two tents she’d set up for herself and Angst. They stood on opposite sides of the campground. She hated this—the thought of tenting it alone made her shudder, but she didn’t want to share his dreams. Couldn’t share them. It felt like his foci dreams were now intruding into hers. She hoped the separation would give her a clear vision of what had happened back home. Had her mother truly died? Was Tyrell really gone? Was she Queen of Unsel? It was everything she could do not to crumple into a ball of remorse and fear, but if her mother had taught her anything, it was how to set...no, more like shove emotion aside.

  “I’m going to hunt for dinner,” Hector said, avoiding eye contact as he turned to stalk off into the woods, quickly disappearing in the dusk.

  He was lying. He guarded his thoughts very well, and he was already too far away for a clear read, but that brief flash of his immediate future didn’t include hunting.

  “I’ll check on Dallow,” she said to no one with a sigh.

  Dallow sat on a dryish patch of dormant moss under an tall fir tree. The tree was old and broad, with long branches that drooped to the ground beneath heavy snow. Like an elder watching over its children, it seemed to hover protectively over the several smaller trees surrounding it.

  He smiled as she approached, brushing light blond bangs from his forehead. He’d removed the blue kerchief she’d given him. Tori sucked in her lips as she braved the sight. Dallow’s missing eyes were horrific, two dark sockets surrounded by a raccoon mask of freshly-healed burn scars. As if he could read her mind, he fumbled on the ground for his kerchief.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think to put it on when I heard you approach.” He grabbed the cloth and held it over his eyes. “Sometimes they itch.”

  “Then leave it off.” Victoria ducked under a branch to kneel beside him. “You came here to be alone. I wanted to check on you, but I’m intruding.”

  “Not alone.” He paused. “Well, I guess there’s no room for little lies if you read minds.”

  Victoria took the kerchief from his hand and placed it on his leg, patting it so he would know where it was. “It’s not exactly reading minds, not for most. I certainly don’t see everything, and I try not to intrude.” She looked around and found they were somewhat hidden. Under the weighed-down branches it felt like a child’s fort. “This place just makes it a little obvious. Are you okay?”

  “Mostly. I need to practice and thought it would help to hide. The map I see in my head doesn’t always do what I want. It always starts out high above,” he explained. “When I focus, I can see closer, but the view is directly overhead. So I’m trying to see if I can view other areas of Ehrde, like Unsel.”

  “That would be great,” she said encouragingly.

  He nodded. “But it’s not working. I can’t control it like Angst did.”

  “Didn’t he have to use a foci with the memndus?”

  “I think so. Those memories are cloudy. That would be a valid reason why it doesn’t do what I want.” Dallow’s shoulders drooped like the tree branches. “I guess I’m fortunate I can use it at all. But I’ll still try.”

  “Is there anything you need?” Victoria asked.

  “My eyes.” Dallow grimaced. “Sorry, that was uncalled for.”

  “I’d be upset too,” she replied quietly, looking down.

  “What’s wrong?” Dallow asked. “There is something troubling you, beyond what you saw last night.”

  “It’s nothing.” She looked at the ground.

  “I think there is a lot on your mind,” he said. “Obviously I can’t help you with your mother, or Angst, but is there anything else?”

  “Angst?” She tilted her head to one shoulder.

  “What else is bothering you, Princess?” he said softly, ignoring her question.

  “Well, since you asked, there is one thing.” She braced herself. “I thought I wanted to be an adventurer, like Angst. Like all of you. But I’m exhausted. I feel like, well, like I’m getting old or something. That sounds silly, but is this all adventuring is? Is it all work and no wonder?”

  “Is that why you are here?” he asked. “For the adventure?”

  “I’m here for lots of reasons, Mr. Dallow.” Her voice was very quiet.

  Dallow smiled knowingly. “While I do not consider myself an adventurer, I do think what you are asking is a fair question.” Dallow pushed himself up to his knees and picked up his staff. “Please take a few steps beyond the tree branches.”

  “Okay,” she said hesitantly, inching out from under the canopy to stand in the nearby clearing. “Here?”

  “That will do,” he said. “Don’t be afraid.”

  “All right.” She looked around, suddenly feeling very exposed.

  “Hold out your arms.”

  “Like this?” She felt like a child trying to fly. “I feel a little silly.”

  “Perfect.” He sounded excited. “Are you ready?”

  “Um. Sure?” She frowned.

  Dallow held his long hardwood staff horizontal, took a deep breath, and swung it hard. The staff struck the trunk of the fir tree with a resounding crack. There was a loud rustling, the sound of a gentle wind rushing through a valley. The snow covering the fir branches lifted and fluttered as a thousand soft wings flapped.

  Victoria squeaked with alarm.

  “Snow moths,” Dallow reassured her. “Just keep your arms still.”

  Victoria breathed rapidly as her arms grew heavy. She was surrounded by giant fluttering snowflakes as the moths sought a new perch. Wings as large as her face and as small as her iris brushed her hands and cheeks. The panic passed as they settled on her outstretched arms. A particularly big snow moth landed on top of her head, its tiny legs gripping her forehead. She struggled to decide if the hairy bug-eyed creatures were cute or creepy, but they were, indeed, wondrous. Wings moved up and down gently as they rested, tickling her arms. When they finally stopped flapping, brown patches on the moths’ wings turned the color of her cloak, her hair, or her hands. Her arms looked like they were partially covered in snow. She stared into the moth’s large, dark eyes and frowned. An orange, string-like tongue flicked out of its mouth to inspect her eyebrows and nose.

  “Hold still so I can focus in closer and see everything,” he said. “Ther
e. Isn’t that something? They have the ability to camouflage themselves during the winter.”

  “Are you sure they’re safe?” she whispered.

  “Mostly,” he said. “Until they start to burrow and lay eggs.”

  “What?” she screamed and flapped her arms.

  Even as she stomped and waved her arms like a threatening bird, she could hear Dallow’s bellowing laughter. When her convulsions stopped, and the moths had finally departed, she waited for him to catch his breath.

  “Sorry, but that’s exactly what I needed,” he said between chuckles.

  “Glad I could help,” she replied dryly.

  “But don’t you see, Your Majesty?” Dallow took deep breaths to calm himself. “The wonder is out here, you just have to look.”

  “Maybe I need to stick to the boring...or the danger,” she said, brushing moth dust off her arms. “They were pretty amazing though.”

  Dallow lifted an arm and pointed a long finger northwest. “Angst is a quarter mile in that direction.”

  “I...I just...” She frowned. “Now you read minds too?”

  “I do not need eyes to see the obvious.” Dallow smiled. “Thanks for checking on me, and thank you for the laughter. Now go look in on him for both of us.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dallow.” She curtsied.

  “You’re welcome, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head.

  Victoria walked through camp on her way to Angst, brushing the tickle off her arms. Tarness was stoking the fire by a pile of freshly-collected wood. He glanced at her sheepishly, nodded, and continued his work. The unasked question hung on him like a sign, and she sighed inwardly. He wanted to know his future. This had to be the best reason not to tell anyone what she could do. She stopped right beside him and looked up. The man was seven feet of blubberous muscle. Thick, steel plate armor covered his chest and back, worn leather straps straining to hold it together. His plate leg guards had been replaced with more comfortable leather riding pants. His light brown eyes smiled beneath the permanent frown of his thick brow. His receding hairline gave him a tall forehead, which looked odd with so much bushy hair. Victoria reached out and took one of his giant hands in two of hers.

  “You realize that I see all futures, and don’t always know which one will actually happen,” she reminded him. “I can sometimes pinpoint which one, but not always.”

  “You don’t have to... Uh, I didn’t ask you to... I just... Thanks.” His fumbling words trailed off to a whisper.

  She nodded as much to acknowledge his gratitude as to shush him. “Your shoulder won’t get better unless we save Rose. You’ll see Maarja again, but not right away, and it’s possible you’ll find love.” Her words gradually became quieter. “Oh!”

  “What?” he said excitedly, his face alight.

  “Not just love, not just with her,” she said. “Ugh. I think you’ll find some loving sooner than you expect.”

  “Really,” he said hopefully.

  She pulled her hands back and hid chagrin with a false princess smile. “If what I saw was even close to what happens, you won’t be disappointed. But most importantly, you have to keep Angst safe. He’s going to need us.” She hadn’t seen that, but figured it wouldn’t hurt.

  “He always does.” Tarness’s grin was ear to ear, his burdens apparently lifted. He raised an arm and pointed into the woods. “I’m pretty sure Angst is thataway.”

  “That obvious?” she said quietly.

  He lowered his head and smiled warmly. “The only one who’ll never know is Angst,” he said. “Unless you tell him, and that’s not something I suspect a princess does. Anyway, he’s there, go find him. Don’t worry about getting lost, Hector can track you.”

  “Thank you, Tarness.” She hugged as much of Tarness as she could.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He patted her gently before she ran off into the woods.

  8

  After dragging the giant sword behind him for fifteen minutes, Angst felt alone. He couldn’t hear the others and pulled Dulgirgraut in front of him, resting the foci on its tip. The woods were silent, aside from a nervous squirrel. He took a deep breath and exhaled steam. Angst circled the blade, staring at it with concern.

  Was it him, or the sword? When he’d finally bonded with Chryslaenor, the foci had seemed brimming with enthusiasm. It couldn’t share enough, like a child anxious to please a parent. He’d had to ignore the onslaught of information from the sword because of the chase to Unsel. Dulgirgraut, however, was the reluctant guardian, unwilling to reveal its secrets, as though unhappy to be here. Since he hadn’t done anything different with the second foci, he was convinced it couldn’t be him.

  “What?” Angst asked as he continued to circle, his voice filled with challenge. “What is it with you?”

  The sword was monstrous. Obnoxious. The foci hovered vertically over the ground, its tip inches from the dirty snow. The blade was identical to Chryslaenor: a ridiculous five feet tall and two feet wide across the flat. A thin handle rose from the base, almost silly in comparison to the great beast. A riser down the center made Dulgirgraut appear slightly rounded. It was so enormous, it should’ve been too heavy to wield—but Angst was Al’eyrn.

  Angst was bonded to the magical sword in a way that went beyond holding hands or heavy petting. It had merged with him, his consciousness, his very self. It should’ve been a once in a lifetime connection, but he’d done this once before with Chryslaenor. Their brief bonding had given him incredible power and the knowledge to use it. But to save everyone he loved, Angst had been forced to remove that bond, ripping it from his mind. It had worked, he had successfully trapped Magic, but the cost was almost his life. That forced separation had left behind a hole intent on eating him alive, and the only cure had been to bond with another foci.

  But Dulgirgraut was different. It was like a distant second wife who’d married you for money and gave you mediocre sex. It provided no comfort or support. He had all the power, the vast, unfathomable power that gushed from the foci like a waterfall—without a single ounce of the knowledge to wield it. Using this sword to fight was almost like having his hands cinched to his waist, forcing him to awkwardly swing at a bully with his shoulders.

  “I asked you a question!” Angst shouted. “So give it up. Are you just going to sit by while my friends and I throw ourselves into danger, or are you going to actually help?”

  Dulgirgraut did not budge or undulate or glow or hum. Angst stretched his neck to one side until he heard a pop.

  “I don’t think you’re just a hunk of metal. Somehow, you’re alive in a way I can’t imagine. I think you’re even intelligent, though maybe not smart.” Angst scoffed. “So, if I’m right, that makes me wonder: do you feel?”

  Still nothing. The blade remained stoic. Angst stopped circling it, facing the flat, and raised a hand to slap it.

  “Stop!” Victoria said.

  “What?” Angst spun about, his heart skipping a beat. “I thought I was supposed to be left alone.”

  “Pardon?” she replied haughtily.

  “Don’t princess me right now.” Angst ground his teeth together. He pointed back and forth between the sword and himself. “Hector said it, we need to work this out before things get messy again. I can’t...I can’t have another Dallow. If that were to happen to you, I’d—”

  “Were you going to slap it?” she asked accusingly, stomping forward to face him.

  “Well, yeah.” Angst thought he saw a slight red glow from the sword. “I’m trying to get a reaction from it.”

  “Is that how you get me to react?” she asked.

  “Of course not,” Angst said then, under his breath, “Not yet.”

  “Very funny,” she said. “Even when things are bad between us, like they are now,” she paused to let this settle in, “we’re still close.”

  “Well, yes,” Angst said meekly. “Always.”

  “Your bond makes you closer to that thing than you’ll ever be with me.” She winced
but walked up to him, pressing her chest against his, her lips mere inches from his. “Do you still love me, Angst?”

  He took a deep breath of Victoria, his heart racing as he felt her warmth. He closed his eyes. From the beginning, there’d been a connection between them he couldn’t explain. She was his best friend, one who often walked a tight rope between appropriate hugs and inappropriately crawling into his bed naked. When she’d invited herself along on their mission, he’d been relieved. His health had been failing fast, and she’d chosen to stand by him.

  But then she’d spent most of the trip to Melkier using magic to secretly communicate with Jaden, and hadn’t even told Jaden to let Heather know he was alive. When, soon after, she’d discovered that her cousin, Alloria, had kissed him...well, they still hadn’t quite recovered. If only he could figure out how to put things right between them.

  “Of course I do,” he said, then teased, “Most of the time.”

  “Would you really strike me to get what you wanted?”

  “No, I could never hurt you,” Angst snapped. “Never on purpose.”

  “Why do you treat me with kindness and not Dulgirgraut?” Victoria asked. “Because I have boobs?”

  “Seems like a good reason to me.” He glanced down at her chest.

  Victoria sighed and stepped back. “I hope you aren’t missing my point.”

  “Don’t slap you if I want something.” Angst frowned mockingly. “Got it.”

  “Look, for both our sakes, until you work things out with your sword, the three of us aren’t going to share a tent,” she said.

  “What if I promise not to slap you?” he said without thinking.

  “Ha ha.” She rolled her eyes. “I need my own dreams. I need to know if what happened is true—and you two are getting in my head. Until you fix things with the sword, and with us, I’ll be staying in my own tent.” Victoria spun about and ran off toward camp.

  “But I never asked you to sleep with me,” Angst said to nobody. He looked at the sword innocently hovering over the snow. “Now I really want to slap you.”