Spirit Mage

by Esther Mitchell

  Firmly reminding herself distractions cost lives in war, Telyn pulled her mind back to the task at hand. Focused again, she sneaked closer to the grate separating the catacomb tunnel from the city beyond. Standing in the shadows of the tunnel, Telyn peered out at the city square. She had expected order, and Hadvia didn't disappoint. Like any other Necropolis, Hadvia's buildings were laid out in precisely-spaced streets which ended at the city center. Padoram, as the Bathron called them, because they all led to the city square, where burial rites were held and pyres built and burnt. Fortunately, the tunnel she chose brought her to a point just off the square. What she saw from her vantage point was far less comforting. The square teemed with warriors, clustered in groups sized from raiding party to small army. There had to be at least thirty different banners out there, half of which Telyn didn't recognize. But, judging from the ones she did know, Reaphia didn't appear to be very discriminating in her choice of bloodthirsty thugs-for-hire. They were all mercenaries and murderers, only interested in blood, glory, and loot. Seeing them made her ache for Nacaris, and the honor and dignity he brought to being a mercenary.

  Telyn's brow furrowed as she focused on the banners she recognized. Why would a Vedic -- even one as deranged as Reaphia -- need mercenaries in a land where no one even questioned her authority? Here, in the Necropolis, she was at the seat of her power, with access to the souls of an entire people. If Paduari was right – and Telyn didn’t doubt him -- Reaphia didn't need mercenaries to keep the Lurudani in line, or to herd her victims to some sacrificial spot. So why were they here?

  Puzzled, Telyn watched the mercenaries for a while, studying their interactions, looking for enemies or near-enemies who could be pitted against one another. The group of ten warriors to the right of her -- Baroc's Clan, to judge by the grappling fist banner and wolf’s head cowls-- were glowering menacingly toward another group... the one with the red scarat on their shields and the Endland head-dresses, who were returning the look tenfold. They hadn't the look of old anger or blood-feud, though. Probably a professional rivalry from their current service. Nothing to prevent them working together to perform their assigned task, whatever it may be. However, the lot with the jade owl device -- Lovar's tribe -- and the group with the bone-crested helms which distinguished them as a Falarkan Army Squad had the look of mortal enemies. Probably Josharan's squad. The two Falarkian princes split ways cycles ago, if alehouse rumors could be believed, and each vowed to see the other dead before he himself passed on. Interesting.

  Then there were the Trachian Hunters, with their poison-bone arrows. If rumor held true, they despised all Borderlanders, which made the presence of MaGriegie's Regiment an open sore to the Trachians, and a welcome sight to her. A well-placed spark or two, and she could set the two units to fighting quicker than a nervous horse confronting a borr adder. Starting a mass battle would give Paduari and herself time to slip through the city center to the portal there -- and beyond if need be -- to find where Reaphia was hiding.

  Satisfied with her strategy, Telyn retraced her route through the twisting tunnels toward the Tikesha. She had just reached the room of doors when a howl like a wounded hunting hound pierced the silence of the catacombs.

  Paduari!

  Telyn sprang toward the Eslewile door, yanking it open as her anaqueri flashed into her hand, thrumming with the tension of battle.

  *****

  Paduari clutched his head in agony, trying to drive away the memories stabbing relentlessly at his mind. This test was nothing short of utter torment. From the instant he proclaimed himself ready, these accursed spirits revisited crime after crime upon him -- even some long past to the point of nearly forgotten. Everything he ever said or did to wound another, every secret he struggled to bury deep within his soul.

  His childhood. Marakai and that propelled flying device Paduari made. He'd been so proud of that contraption, so sure it would work, until Marakai laughed and told him he was dreaming. It galled him to realize Marakai was right. The whole thing crashed over the Cragg, leaving Paduari struggling for both his life and his dignity on the cliff's edge. But rather than admit his own failure, he'd been convinced Marakai jinxed him, and he got his revenge by slitting the strap of Marakai's saddle. The older boy was unconscious for days after he was thrown from his horse, and Paduari struggled with what to say. Marakai hadn't waited, and Paduari didn't fight back when the older boy pounded him for his deceit. Paduari knew he deserved the thrashing.

  Trouble was, no one else did. When Marakai was sent away, disgraced for his temper, Paduari compounded his first crime with silence. It haunted him for eniane afterward, until he successfully buried the whole nasty ordeal. Now, it revisited him with pain as fresh as the day Marakai left for the Borderlands.

  That childhood incident was the least of his crimes, and far from his darkest secret. The day he realized who he was becoming – the feelings stirring inside him capable of bringing only shame to his family – he began living a lie. He'd betrayed Kaleadre, taken away every last shred of dignity and respect she possessed, when he courted her at his family’s urging, but refused to tell her why he never asked for her hand. What woman could, or would, bear the humiliation of a public betrayal the likes of which he subjected her to the day they were supposed to be betrothed? Especially when he couldn’t bring himself to explain the truth. The failing was within him, not her. At the time, he wasn’t able to say the words, and by the time he figured out how, she was long gone. He never had the chance to tell her he'd hurt her from his own fear of being outcast. She hadn’t deserved such treatment.

  He still shamed himself, and his family, in the end. His father turned his back on him. His son was dead, Hurat declared, and so Paduari ceased to be Hurat's son. His mother, to hold her own dignity, was forced to turn her back to him as well. Had she not, she would have been branded a whore, and her marriage instantly nullified. So Paduari became a stranger to almost everyone he ever knew. Only Grandam Tarlae stood by him through it all, assuring him she not only knew his secret, but there was no shame in it. She never lost her standing because of his disgrace, either. She was accepted, her refusal to disown him seen as just one of her Thracdani ways. And, when she died, it was of Paduari she made her last request.

  In the end, he failed her, too. He let them bury her by Lurudani tradition rather than Borderlander, too weak to stand up to his estranged family's insistence.

  "Nooooo!" Paduari wailed, curling into a ball on the floor before the throne. "Make it stop! Blessed Saphiu, make it stop!"

  We cannot. The chorus of soft, musical voices chanted through him like a prayer. Paduari, son of Hurat, only you can free yourself. These demons are yours to conquer. To accept the Way of Spirit, you must accept yourself. You must face, know, and love who you truly are.

  Paduari squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears against the words. How could he possibly make peace with who he was? His exile would be complete, if he tried. Lurudani law made no allowance for one man to love another.

  Then, something the spirits said froze in his brain, crystallizing into understanding.

  Free yourself.

  This was his test, the challenge. It wasn’t about what his people thought. It was about understanding he wasn’t bound to this land. Could he break the chains of guilt and fear he let keep him hostage for most of his life? Could he return the pieces of others' souls he unwittingly stole with his frightened betrayals? Dragging himself to his feet, he stood facing the throne. Reaching deep within himself, into the well of his very being, he sought the courage to do what he had never done, and pulled all of his fear, anger, and guilt to the surface of his being.

  Opening his eyes, he found the room bathed in a blood-red glow, emanating from the center of his chest. Drawing a deep breath, Paduari moved one hand to close over the source of light and, gathering the light into his hand, drew it away from himself. Looking down, he saw a bright, glowing crystal roughly the size of a pearl pulsing in his palm. Recalling the Rhi of Rokash
i, Saphi of Inner Peace, he quietly intoned, "Valahishma tokuma dori. Valahishma figovrma matora. Gemalisti barate vataraki. Banished be injury done. Banished be memory harmed. Forgiveness bring peace everlasting. I am as I was made, and I will not run from what Spirit has given me."

  The crystal drifted up from his palm and spun in empty air, where it hung, pulsing, above him. Spent, Paduari collapsed and lay still, staring at the glowing manifestation of his spirit. His last impressions were of a cold breeze upon his face and the smooth tiling of the Hall's floor pressed against his back. As he stared up at the spinning ball of light above him, he waited for the darkness of death to claim him.

  Helpless, Paduari watched as the crystal expanded to three times its size. He groaned and closed his eyes against the glare. There was a shattering sound, like a thousand glass orbs crashing to the ground. Paduari swallowed hard, and was amazed to realize he felt no trepidation. Even knowing death hovered above him, he was unable to summon fear. Instead, a serenity he'd never experienced before touched him. He accepted he was not in control -- whatever happened, it was as things must be. He was exactly the man he was supposed to be. Breathing deeply, he opened his mind and heart completely, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

  “The Will of Spirit be done,” he whispered hoarsely, giving up the last of his fear.

  Warmth like the sun bathed his face, and he cracked one eyelid. He gasped, and both eyes flew open to streams of multi-colored light radiating from a source somewhere above him. It fell toward him like rain, but stopped short of touching him -- hanging like crystalline tears above his head. Gathering the last of his strength, he reached out to embrace the warmth of radiant light, drawing it into himself. His eyes flew open as the light filled him, and he saw, in spectral traces of color, the spirits moving throughout the room. He laughed, grateful tears streaming down his face, as he understood the barrier he crossed. He lived in a dark trench of shame and bitterness until this moment. Now, the world was brand new, and full of hope and wisdom.

  "Paduari?" A voice near him pulled his attention, and he sat up to look at Telyn. The radiance of her spirit burst like a living flame before his eyes. Here was his Gift -- the ability to see into the soul, to look at the world through inner eyes.

  He smiled in response to the concern in her voice. "I am well, Telyn."

  Telyn nodded, her expression still wary as she moved to crouch by his side. "So the Spirit Majik worked, then?"

  He laughed. "Better than I dreamed. I feared I was going to die, but it worked."

  "And," she hedged cautiously, "what do you intend to do with this new-found power?"

  New determination flowed through Paduari. The shame-faced, outcast son no longer existed. There was only one path in his life, and it led forward, not back. "Help my people."

  Telyn grinned, her tensed shoulders relaxing. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you say that. However, I think we'd best hurry."

  "Why? What have you discovered?"

  "Reaphia's hired mercenaries by the hundreds, and I can't figure out why. Until I can safely get in contact with Sala again, I won't know either, and even then there aren't any guarantees Jelait will have found out anything useful."

  "Should I ask if there's any good news in all of this?"

  She flashed him a grin. "Enough to suit our purposes. Apparently, life among the Vedics sheltered Reaphia enough she has either no knowledge or no true understanding of the feuds and bickering amongst the mercenaries she's hired. It appears she took in every army she could buy the services of, including several sets of mortal enemies. If I can set them to fighting each other, it should allow us to reach Reaphia with few hindrances."

  Paduari nodded grimly. "Let's go, then. What do I need to do?"

  "Just worry about getting rid of Reaphia. I'll take care of getting us there."

  He trusted her without question to keep up her end of the bargain. She was, after all, the warrior here. She had a keen strategist's mind, and he could see it was already hard at work. "Right. Let's go."

  "Gladly. Which way brings us out into the city?" She indicated the three stairways at the far end of the Tikesha.

  Paduari pointed toward the staircase at the center. It was wide and highly ornate, carved into the alabaster wall and set with obsidian and precious stones. "The main ceremonial staircase leads straight into the middle of the Turbaroca -- Sacrament Square."

  He gestured to a second stairway, spiraling narrowly up through the Tikesha's ceiling in the far left corner. It was wooden, with iron rails, and looked the type of staircase one might expect of a monastery. "That spiral staircase leads into the Monastery of Farii, Goddess of Wisdom and Death. Her priests tended to the Tikesha in the days before Sehidhe."

  Indicating the third set of stairs -- really more of a ladder -- dangling, wooden planks across ropes, from the ceiling nearby, Paduari explained, "That ladder goes to the Saphiu Tessa -- the Chamber of the Prophets -- in the mountains above the city."

  Telyn studied the three exits for a moment. "The first puts us in the center of the mercenaries, which is unwise..."

  "Very." Paduari bit back a wry smile.

  "The last takes us above the city, which does little good if we want to reach Reaphia. We'd have to backtrack again."

  Paduari nodded. "No violence is permitted within the Saphiu Tessa."

  Telyn's gaze narrowed on him. "Reaphia wouldn't be able to use it as a hiding spot, would she?"

  Paduari shook his head. "Those of violent thoughts and emotions don't willingly enter the Saphiu Tessa -- it reflects a person's thoughts, memories, and feelings for all to see. Only those at total peace with themselves find any comfort or safety there."

  "Hmm... And what of this monastery? What kind of place is it?"

  "The Monastery of Farii was dedicated to the Rhiadvia -- the Death Rite -- before Sehidhe came. It's the monks of Farii who prepared the dead for burial and cared for the Tikesha."

  Telyn nodded grimly. "If Reaphia's going to be anywhere, I imagine that would be the place. Let's go."

  Without another word, Paduari started for the spiral staircase. He barely took three steps, however, before Telyn grabbed his arm, stopping him. He turned, confused, to see a look of impatience and horror combined on her face.

  "Have you lost your mind?" she demanded in a low hiss of frustration.

  His brow furrowed. What was she so annoyed about? "What?"

  She sighed, and he watched her free hand clench and unclench in a sign of self-restraint. Then, very slowly and deliberately, she asked, "Are you armed, Paduari?"

  "A weapon?" He shook his head when she nodded affirmation. What was she getting at? "No. Why? Does it matter?"

  Telyn rubbed the bridge of her nose in a weary movement speaking of more restraint than he imagined she was accustomed to using. "Let me explain something to you that might not have entered your oblivious world, Paduari. You're the only one who can free the spirits Reaphia's trapped. You're also the only one capable of taking away at least some of her power. Do you have a bloody clue what that makes you?"

  He blinked. "No. I don't see..."

  "It makes you indispensable, you..." She loosed a small sound of frustration through gritted teeth. He watched in fascination as the muscles in her arms stood out in definition. She was definitely struggling with patience. The motion reminded him so much of Marakai a smile tugged briefly at his lips, before her next words wiped it away. "So if you go charging up those steps now, with that head-in-the-clouds manner of yours, we're both in very big trouble. What do you think would happen if you opened that door up there and found yourself face-to-face with a mercenary or three?"

  He swallowed hard as what she was saying finally made sense. "I'd be dead."

  "Right. And your people along with you." She drew a deep breath, then continued more calmly, "You're the only one I know of who can do this, Paduari, and I don't have a lifetime to spend looking for a replacement for you if you get yourself killed being a fool. Now, let me go
first, since I'm fully armed, and slightly more expendable."

  As if to stress her point, Telyn drew her anaqueri and covered the distance between where Paduari stood and the base of the spiral staircase in a handful of easy strides. Turning, she beckoned for Paduari to join her.

  "Stay about three steps behind me at all times, unless I tell you otherwise. If something happens to me, you run like all the cheelaqa in Purat are after you."

  Paduari nodded, then glanced at her in question. "What is a Chee-lacka?"

  "A blood-sucking monster you should pray you never meet."

  "Bathron lore?"

  She shook her head, glancing up the stairs. "Cheelaqa aren't lore. They're a terror most of the Endlanders guard their homes against."

  "But I thought you said Endlanders don't fear much..."

  She sighed. "Anyone with a brain in their head and a pulse fears cheelaqa. Look, we really don't have time for this right now. Let's go do what we came here to do, and then you can debate fear until you're blue in the face, all right?"

  He nodded. "All right."

  Telyn shook her head as she crept silently up the steps, toward the door at the very top. As long as she lived, she doubted she would ever understand Majin like Paduari. Even wearing the mantle of Majin herself didn't seem real when faced with someone like Paduari.

  Nor did she have time for idle thoughts. As she neared the door, she gestured for Paduari to stop. Inching up to the door, she placed her ear against the thick wood and listened tensely for sounds on the other side. She froze, her breath halting in her lungs, as she heard footsteps and voices nearing the door.

  "What does Her Eminence have planned for the ceremony on Enithracim?" A thin, weasely-sounding voice asked in Targothic.