by JM Bray
His brow creased. ‘How long have I been here?’
Sari came around to the other side of Colman’s bed and laid her hand on his encrusted shoulder. ‘You’ve been with us nearly a cycle,’ she told him.
His eyes widened and his mind whirled, taking the room with it. He blinked, then closed his eyes. When he opened them the room had stopped spinning. ‘Twenty-nine days? It can’t be. It was just yesterday...’
Jolie wiped his brow again. ‘It’s true, Coleman. We found you in the Refuge, near death from exhaustion and wounds. Truly, I’ve never seen someone so depleted of life energy. We readily sewed your wounds, but they healed slower than they should. Somehow you used all of what keeps us alive; every resource within you seemed to have been drawn out.’
Sari asked, ‘Do you know how it happened?’
Ignoring the question, he took a painful breath and asked, ‘Where am I?’
‘You are in the Cloister of Berdine. Near Hidden Falls,’ Sari told him.
‘But that’s a sevenday ride by horse from my station.’ His voice grew quiet.
‘I’m sorry. We didn’t find your mount. It must have been taken by the Kafla,’ she continued.
‘I didn’t have one,’ he said quietly.
‘But then, how did you come to be at the Refuge?’ Sari asked.
‘I ran.’
The Matriarch
‘He what?’ The Matriarch looked up, her brows furrowed.
The Matriarch, surprised. Jolie loved it when that happened.
‘He told us he ran,’ Sari raised a hand. ‘I know, it sounds impossible.’
‘From the ranges east of Callendel? On foot? While being pursued by the Kafla?’
‘After a long battle,’ Jolie said.
‘We have no reason to doubt him. What’s to gain from fabricating such a story?’ Sari looked at her.
‘It would explain his condition when we found him,’ Jolie said.
The Matriarch put a hand to her chin. ‘How did he say he accomplished this feat?’
Jolie continued, ‘He’s been with the Warriors of the Oaks since his apprentice age, perhaps ten years. Coleman told us they specialize in a training called The Run. He didn’t give specific details — as we know, every Cloister has its secrets.’ She hesitated. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. He somehow channeled every resource into running.’ She looked at Sari as she finished. ‘I’d venture even his Masters would be surprised at what he accomplished.’
The older woman tented her fingers. ‘Sari, what are your thoughts?’
‘Matriarch, I have to say. When you sent us out, with nothing to follow except what you dreamt, I had my doubts. However, after what I’ve seen and heard...’ She shook her head. ‘The details were precisely as you spoke of them. Now, learning of these abilities, I’m convinced. We’ve found a Traveler.’
The Matriarch sat back and asked quietly, ‘But will he be willing?’
After a moment, Sari cleared her throat: ‘Matriarch, may I speak plainly?’
The woman’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Of course, Sari, you know every voice is valued in our order. We are behind closed doors as well. Speak your mind.’
‘I don’t want to seem disrespectful. Or that I doubt your leadership in this matter...’
‘Oh, for goodness sake woman, out with it.’ The Matriarch waved a hand.
‘What good is a Traveler without a Companion?’ she said in a rush.
‘That’s what’s bothering you?’
‘Of course it is. The Archives are clear. Should the need arise for a Traveler, he must have a Companion as a willing guide. Without both, each of them is useless!’
Jolie bit the inside of her cheek to keep quiet. Sari had done it now. She’ll be the one scrubbing pots.
The Matriarch only smiled. ‘My dear, of course there’s a Companion. I found him before I sent you to retrieve our Traveler.’
Jolie saw her own surprise reflected in Sari’s face. They looked back at the Matriarch, who simply sipped her tea and sighed contentedly. She looked every bit the gentle grandmother rather than the most powerful Seer in the Realm.
‘But...’ Jolie said.
‘How?’ Sari finished the sentence.
‘That? It was fairly simple.’ She paused for another sip. ‘I just had him roll the dice.’ She smiled warmly at them and went back to her tea.
Chapter 9
The Eight Sisters
Thirty-Seven Years in the Past
Callendel
Justus closed the book. He was excited. Though he had previously failed to get the results he sought, he believed he finally had the answer. After all this time, to find a solution…in such drivel. He tossed the book to the table in his office. ‘Samuel’s Book of Tales.’ He shook his head. A garish children’s book.
He turned and stared out the paned window. The city of Callendel was bustling with afternoon life. From his home on the hill, a maze of streets sprawled to the bay beyond. Shops of every description lined them, and the people bustled about. Scurrying like ants, living their insignificant lives. He long ago distanced himself from them; others were a way to achieve his own goals and pleasures, nothing more.
He looked at his library. His esoteric collection greatly exceeded that of his father. Four large shelves contained book after book of fables. He had discovered that many mysteries of life were touched on in these simple tomes. It was a way, he supposed, of passing knowledge to the next generation, along with the ridiculous morals they attempted to instruct. ‘They don’t comprehend what they truly hold. Ants.’
His thought shifted to the matter at hand. Let’s see, in this fable, the witch summoned a spirit, changing the child into a rabbit before eating him. He picked up the book again, turning to the correct page. In other versions, she simply ate him. She had summoned the spirit with a tincture of wormsworth, a small red flower of some sort, bone meal and pine sap. He examined the illustration. Was that flower…? Indeed! It had to be the pellundium blossom.
He read, “‘...she ignited the vile mixture, calling an evil spirit from the depths of the Abyss.
‘Do you seek to cross to the other lands, mistress?’ the spirit asked.
‘No. You will carry the Essence of this child into the rabbit, that I may consume him!’”
Could it be that simple? He looked at the illustration again. Though poorly written, the book contained detailed artwork.
The witch stood at a cauldron in the garden of her ramshackle hut, with the night sky stretched out above her. Correctly placed stars dotted the night sky rather than randomly drawn. He recognized the constellation over her head easily, The Seven Sisters. Most noticeable in its absence was the white orb of Lunos. ‘Wait, now. What is this?’ he muttered. Sharing the sky was what appeared to be an eighth Sister. How can that be? He tapped his chin in thought. If memory served correctly, and his always did, he had obtained a book on the Sisters recently. Justus located the tome he was looking for quickly, and settled into his chair.
When he looked up, darkness had fallen, and the lanterns glowed warmly. It was so very nice having proper servants. His search had been fruitful: ‘The Stepsister we commonly call Janus. She roams the heavens, finding her way home to her family every twelfth year.’ Fortunately, he owned charts that plotted Janus’ course.
At a pigeonhole cabinet, he scanned the various charts it contained until finding the correct one. Working carefully, he attached the edge of the chart to an apparatus, gently turning the adjustment wheel until it was fully open. He examined the grids before him. Janus is now at this point in the night sky, and it is now the tenth Lunos cycle. That means... He computed the numbers, carefully recording and double-checking the figures. His excitement rose. Next year, in this very cycle. Going back to the cabinet, he retrieved the Lunos chart. Next year, the sky will be without Lunos on the sixteenth day. A year and a sevenday. His mind raced. He could gather the components with some small effort, but could he find subjects within that time?
&
nbsp; The book of fables had added significant details, but left others woefully missing. The last forty years of his life had been in pursuit of filling in those gaps. In his estimation, no one could accomplish such an event. The child wouldn’t become an animal, nor his Essence transferred to it, for one very simple reason. No child would willingly allow an Abyssal creature to carry his Essence into a beast. He believed in order for such transference to take place, both the subjects must be willing. It was a simple matter to overcome the mind of the animal, but the person, that was another matter indeed. He wasn’t about to test the theory on himself, so, where to find a willing subject? Where indeed?
Pae
Thirty-Six Years in the Past
Callendel
Justus signaled the server again. She promptly came to the table.
‘Yes m’lord?’ She curtsied.
‘Another bowl of soup for my friend, if you please? He finds the potatoes and leeks simply divine.’ Because he had little use for people, it was all the easier to manipulate them. Without concern for their welfare, he could be as kind as need be in order to get what he wished.
She curtsied again and glided off.
‘So, you were saying?’ the withered man asked.
‘Yes, of course. I’ve found a way to invigorate a person’s Essence, making him feel decades younger. If done properly, their life would be extended as well.’
‘A longer life, you say? And younger to boot? Where is the queue for this miracle, and how do I get in it?’ He cackled. ‘I’m no fool, young man. If you possessed what you claim, hordes of people would be beating down your door.’
‘Exactly. You are no fool, which is why I selected you to be the first.’ Justus stared into the old man’s watery eyes. Foolish, no, but you are a greedy old miser. I’m counting on that. ‘If you’re willing, let us retire to my home, and I’ll provide the details.’
He wiped his near toothless mouth as he considered. ‘Fine, let’s do so.’
Justus started to rise.
‘After the bowl of soup.’
‘Of course.’ Justus smiled as he sat. ‘After the soup.’
‘This is a fine home, Master Justus.’
‘I’m glad you approve, Master Patres.’ He settled into his chair opposite the elder. ‘Brandy?’
‘That would be excellent.’
Justus waved his hand. ‘Laurence.’ A young man silently came into the room, poured the snifters, served them and departed.
‘Servants as well? Very nice indeed.’ Patres nodded as he sipped the brandy.
‘Yes, having nicer things about you makes life so much more enjoyable. Should you agree to my proposal, you’ll be taken care of in the same fashion for the rest of your new, and very long, life.’
‘Hmmm.’ He nodded. ‘What are the details?’
At that moment, a squawk sounded from behind a curtain, and Patres jumped. ‘What was that?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, that’s my new bird. He heard us and wants to be included. Would you care to see him?’ Justus offered with a smile.
‘Certainly.’
Stepping to the heavy curtain, Justus pulled it to the side, revealing the large black bird.
‘Oh, he is a big one. I’ve never seen the like,’ Patres said.
‘He’s but a year old, and rare. From a strain that is the largest of the species. Normally their plumes are brightly colored, rather than black. He has a long way to go.’ Justus rubbed the top of its head with his finger.
‘What do you mean?’ the old man asked.
‘I’ve just had him two cycles, and he isn’t fully trained. These birds are noted for their intelligence, and extremely long life.’ He turned back to Patres. ‘They live for one hundred years or more.’
‘Really? Astounding.’ Patres shook his head. ‘But let’s get to the matter at hand. I believe we have other things to discuss.’
‘Dear Patres, that’s exactly what we’ve been discussing.’ Justus smiled, picked up his brandy, and sat down across from Pae.
Chapter 10
A Peaceful Sleep
Vincent awoke with a feeling of ease. Flea’s breathing came quietly from the bunk above. He looked around the room; everything seemed right. The glow of the clock illuminated the nightstand, revealing the wooden die nearby, 2 a.m. He lay back, extending his body lengthwise, until his muscles nearly cramped. Stretching warmed his muscles and always helped settle him for sleep. As he closed his eyes, something caught his attention near the built-in dresser. It looked like a small dot of white light. He decided to ignore it, but then the pinpoint started to expand.
It grew steadily, forming a rough rectangle with light orange edges that faded into nothingness. Strangely, he wasn’t frightened or alarmed. Peace radiated from it, filling the room. He sat up, coming eye level with the apparition, and peered at it in wonder. Lines the color of the edges formed. They moved and twisted in on themselves, becoming a flowing, vertical script. The language was unfamiliar but looked Middle Eastern. The script held for a moment and faded like steam evaporating. Once again the lines formed; this time he could read them.
Do not be fearful
You stand on the Path
Great decisions come your way
He was dumbfounded, speechless.
The lines misted away and reformed, again in the vertical script. They faded and reappeared.
The choice is yours
It is always yours
The script rhythmically appeared.
To support the
Traveler
To be his
Companion
With that, the light retracted and dimmed, shrinking in on itself.
Wait. I don’t know what you mean. What do I do?
Though the edges were nearly touching, two words floated into the air.
Choose wisely.
Vincent awoke with a feeling of ease. He looked around the room; everything looked right. Flea’s breathing came quietly from the bunk above. What woke him? As he closed his eyes, some part of him remembered. His lips moved as he drifted off, his voice a whisper, ‘Choose wisely.’
Breakfast
Vincent walked to the table where Knife, Julie, and Flea sat eating breakfast. His martial arts gear prompted looks from several tables as he passed.
Julie saw him coming and smiled, patting the empty seat next to her. He took the hint and slid into it then slipped his rain jacket over the back of the chair.
‘So, Mr Norris, where are you off to this morning?’ she asked.
‘Norris?’
‘Chuck,’ Knife said. ‘You know, the man with the toughest beard in the world.’
‘Oh, him.’ Vincent rubbed his smooth face. ‘He’d whip my butt in that department.’
‘Yeah.’ Flea smiled. ‘That and every other one.’
Vincent nodded. ‘I know. I’m way behind him on chest hair.’
They all laughed. ‘I didn’t know you had it in you, Vincent.’
He looked at Knife. ‘What, chest hair?’
Julie giggled.
‘No, this calm and funny Vincent. Where’d he come from?’
‘Dunno, guess I woke up on the right side of the bed.’
Julie leaned closer. ‘Well, I like him. Bring him out more often.’
He smiled at her. ‘I’ll work on that. We’re going to the gymnastics room after breakfast.’
She blinked. ‘We are?’
‘No, silly, Flea and I are.’
She still looked confused.
‘When I sat down, you asked where I was going.’
‘Oh, that. Sorry, I lost my train of thought. Laid-back-Vincent-man got me all aflutter.’ She batted her eyes at him playfully, bringing more laughter. During the previous weeks, the group had developed an easy camaraderie. They’d been meeting in the library for study sessions, trying to stay ahead of their coursework. They met after classes to hang out and even convinced Vincent to attend one of the school’s baseball games. All the while Vincent and
Julie’s relationship took its first steps toward something more.
Flea spoke up, ‘Yeah, I’m going to be his punching dummy.’
‘At least he has the dummy part down, but I’ll try not to punch him,’ Vincent said.
Knife asked, ‘Those pants are for more than comfort?’
‘Didn’t you know?’ Flea looked at Knife, brought his voice down an octave, and worked his lips so he spoke out of sync with his words. ‘Vincent is a...Kung Fu Mastah...his...technique...is superior to all...other schools.’ The effect spurred spontaneous laughter, and brought breakfast to a halt.
Julie wiped her eyes. ‘Seriously though, you know martial arts?’
He ducked his chin. ‘Yeah, some.’
She touched the back of his hand. ‘I’d like to see it someday.’
‘Count me in,’ Knife said.
Vincent smiled. ‘Sure, that could be arranged.’
‘I’m lookin’ forward to it, too,’ Flea said.
Julie and Knife swiveled their heads at him slowly.
‘Roommates for years, right?’ Julie asked, with a raised eyebrow.
‘This is the first time you’ve seen him do his thing?’ Knife asked.
‘Hey, this is the new Vincent. The old one was mysterious and private.’ Flea wiggled his fingers and eyebrows.
Vincent grinned. He had no idea why the conversation didn’t wrack him with the jitters like usual, but he wasn’t complaining.
Flea continued, ‘Speaking of that, we better hit it. I have a 9:30 class.’ He stood and pushed in his chair, grabbing his windbreaker. Vincent took the last drink of his coffee and followed suit.
‘Have fun, boys,’ Julie said melodically.
‘Don’t hurt him too bad, Flea.’ Knife said.
A Workout
‘So, is there something I should do? Or...’ Flea asked as they stepped into the large room. Four young women were there, stretching and chatting.
‘No need to panic. It’s pretty easy, especially the first part.’
