Seeking Sorrow (Guardians of Terath Book 1)

by Zen DiPietro

  “You’ve seen this before, then? I didn’t know mana could do this.” Arc felt like he’d been lashed by a thorny whip. He followed one thought to the next and sat down hard as realization shuddered through him. His breath turned icy in his chest. “Manahi can’t do this . . . can they?”

  “They can’t. At least, no one in recorded history has ever had enough mana ability to do something like this. Even a highly talented manahi maxes out at growing a large tree or fully mending a few bones. This is . . .” Luc’s face betrayed his struggle to find words. “It’s just unfathomable.”

  “But you’ve seen it,” pressed Arc, his mind racing over what Luc had said. “Once before.”

  Luc sighed and sank to the dusty ground beside Arc. Will joined them, looking unsteady. “Some history isn’t safe to record.” Luc stopped, seeming to consider what to tell them, then shook his head.

  “Officially, this has never happened, here or anywhere else. However, I had the misfortune to experience what we see here once before, at Umi Cabal. I saw the same ashy nothing where a town should be, and felt the horror of power it left behind. This magnitude of mana leaves a lingering signature, like a jolt of electricity on your tongue. The tragedy fifteen years ago felt just like this.”

  Arc ran his hands through his hair. He was old enough to remember the mystery of Umi Cabal’s disappearance. Umi Cabal had been one of several small communities they called cabals, joined together in a coalition dedicated to living seamlessly with Terath’s verdant nature. The residents were mostly artists, scholars, and tradespeople. Cabalites had been peaceful, creative people who welcomed visitors and took care to celebrate life. They didn’t avoid technology, but they valued items made by human hands over those that were machine manufactured.

  He remembered seeing viewscreen images of the land at Umi Cabal. There had been no ash, no town, nothing. Just an empty plot of unremarkable land. Pretty, of course, as it was part of the mid-lats, but completely undifferentiated from any other plot of undeveloped land. Within a few years of Umi Cabal’s destruction, the other cabals had disbanded, and the entire community was now just a historical footnote.

  The lost town had been the focus of intense scrutiny at the time, with every possible theory offered for the disappearance of the people. Fire, lightning strike, and chemical explosion had all been suggested, and people generally had accepted whatever theory they thought most likely. Over the years, the complete lack of clues had caused the story to become almost a myth. Enough time had passed that the loss of the tiny town had been pushed into the recesses of unpleasant history that people preferred to ignore.

  Arc tried to rein in his freeform thoughts. It was just so much to process. The idea of mana as a means of destruction chilled his soul and threw into question everything he thought he knew about mana.

  “So you’re telling us that mana destroyed Umi Cabal.” He couldn’t believe he was even saying it.

  “No. Mana did nothing. Mana itself is harmless, an element that simply exists on Terath in the way that nitrogen and carbon do. You can’t sense it yourself because you have no mana ability, but mana-holders are intrinsically aware of the mana around them at all times. That energy is inert until a person harnesses and directs it. That manipulation, that intention, is what determines the result. Only a person can mend a bone, charge the power grid, or spark a fire. Mana itself simply exists, like any other resource we manipulate to our benefit.”

  Arc appreciated the difference between the instrument and a person’s use of the instrument. He was sure that if he were a mana-holder, he’d also be quite sensitive about that clarification, particularly in light of what they now viewed.

  Luc continued, “It’s no different than the energy loaded into the power grid or a power cell. Once it’s there, technology allows us to convert that energy into electricity, fuel, communications, transportation, and so on. If someone used the power grid to cause an explosion, that’s not the fault of the mana.”

  Arc knew, as all people of Terath knew, that less than a fifth of the population could harness mana. Should someone subvert the power grid for some destructive act, of course none of Terath’s mana-holders would be responsible for that.

  “I understand. But I still don’t understand how a manahi wiped out Umi Cabal, and why that’s been kept secret for the past fifteen years. Especially now, when the same thing has happened to Sorrow.” Arc found it nearly impossible to believe. If anyone but Luc said these things, he’d dismiss them as the crackpot ideas of a conspiracy theorist. But Luc was not only the Dean of the Institute. He’d also been chosen by Ina Trewe to be here, and Arc’s trust for his aunt knew no bounds. Arc had no choice but to believe what Luc told them.

  “Yes. No one knows who caused the tragedy at Umi Cabal. Perhaps it was more than one manahi. That much energy would tear a single mana-holder apart. But even if all of Terath’s manahi linked themselves together to harness mana, they couldn’t manage that much, and if they did, they could never manipulate it. It would be like a group of people standing on a beach, trying to master a tidal wave by waving buckets at it.”

  “Yet here we are, where it happened. For the second time. How many people know a manahi took out Umi Cabal, and why has it been kept a secret?” Arc felt a sense of outrage rising.

  Luc sighed. Even as Arc looked at him, the man aged a decade. “Mana exists on this planet, and there’s no changing that fact. What’s more, there’s no way to change the fact that some people are born with the ability to use it. Our entire society is built around mana use. It’s a clean, renewable resource that powers everything. Even our currency is based on units of mana. Imagine the effect on our economy and our society if people feared mana. If people shunned mana. If people decided to take action against those who can hold mana. Think of it.”

  After waiting a few moments to let Arc and Will consider, he added, “Do you want to see class warfare on Terath? Those who cannot hold mana versus those who can?”

  Arc did the mental math and found that no matter how he ciphered, the end sum was devastation. The very idea of mana-holders and average people doing battle made his stomach turn.

  “To answer your question, very few people know about what really destroyed Umi Cabal. Myself, obviously. Magistrate Trewe. A couple other manahi. Now you two.” Luc glared at them significantly.

  Arc and Will shared a look. Will cleared his throat. “I won’t be the one to reveal it. You have my word. Since you’ve safeguarded the secret for so long, I’ll leave you to decide if and when to divulge it to others.”

  Arc added, “Of course, I’ll say nothing unless you advise otherwise.”

  Luc ran a hand over his scalp. “We have no clues from Umi Cabal. No witnesses, no evidence. We removed the ash and never recorded its existence. The samples we analyzed gave us no clues.” He folded his hands in his lap and shook his head. “We had the luxury of thinking Umi Cabal’s destruction was an isolated freak incident. We no longer have that luxury. There’s a significant threat of this occurring a third time. You two are here because Magistrate Trewe believed you to be the right ones to . . .” His shoulders slumped. “Save the world, I guess.” His posture did not indicate great confidence in the future of the world.

  Well, that was Luc’s problem. Not his. Arc was not eager to remain in this crematory any longer, so he stood and dusted off his pants. “Clearly, my aunt thought I had something to lend to the investigation, so I’ll do whatever I can to help. But there’s nothing here but dust, and I’d like to put some distance between myself and this abomination. I suggest we trek to the nearest town and question the people there. Maybe this time someone heard or saw something.”

  Luc and Will agreed as they rose to their feet. Turning their backs to the ash-town that bore the tragically fitting name of Sorrow, they trudged toward the green hills and unblemished blue skies beyond the char line.


  The pub in Solace was the ideal location to shake off the images of Sorrow that haunted them while seeking information about the lost city. Since it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner, only a few townspeople loitered at simple tables made of durable synthetic fibers that resembled oak.

  Luc and Will nursed tall tumblers of noxious libations in the corner while Arc chatted up the barkeep, who went by the name of Bero. Naturally, he was the person most likely to hear rumors and whispers.

  Unfortunately, he hadn’t. His eyes were oceans of mourning as he shook his head. Lines drew journeys of fatigue across his face. “There isn’t a person in town who has any idea of what happened. All we know is that six days ago, Sorrow was there and five days ago, we only found ash. We called the Council of Magistrates immediately, but so far, we’ve gotten no answers as to what happened.”

  Arc bowed his head for a moment, paying homage to the lives lost.

  Bero asked, “You had kin there? Or friends?”

  “No, neither. My companions and I are investigating the matter for the Council. But it’s difficult to put aside the thought of those lost lives, even for the purpose of trying to uncover what happened to them.”

  “Working in service of others is bound to bring sadness to you, but I thank you for your efforts. Our neighbors in Sorrow deserve an official investigation, so I’m glad they’re getting one. But here in Solace, whatever the outcome, we’ll experience the loss every day. Our two towns relied on each other. So far as we can tell, about fifty of our own disappeared along with the rest.”

  “And there was no sound, no smell, and no . . . vibration? Nobody noticed a thing out of place?”

  Again, the barkeep shook his head. “If it’s hard for you to imagine, consider how we feel. Sorrow was full of our friends, our neighbors, and in some cases, our family. They all disappeared without us even missing a step, and it hurts like a hot knife in the eye. If they’re all dead, the least we could have done is notice it happening.”

  His voice broke, and he leaned hard on his elbows, staring down at the bar.

  Arc briefly touched Bero’s forearm to share a moment of sympathy. The barkeep was a large, raw-boned, middle-aged man. He’d been approachable but gruff before Arc had mentioned Sorrow. Bero had to be a normally self-assured person, given his vocation, but his grief had dissolved his composure, leaving him with the broken air of someone who didn’t know where he fit into the world anymore. Given Luc’s recent revelation about Umi Cabal, Arc understood just how Bero felt.

  When Bero had composed himself, Arc asked, “Are there any theories about what happened?”

  “Nothing that makes sense. Some electrostatic occurrence, a meteorite, a mana overload in the power grid. All things that are either impossible to do or impossible to hide.”

  “Is there any reason for anyone to be angry with Sorrow? Some grudge to settle?” Arc ventured.

  Yet another negative response.

  “Do you recommend anyone for me to talk to, anyone who might have any ideas or clues to point us in some direction? We’re looking for anything. Right now, we have absolutely nothing to help us decide what to do next.”

  Bero lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s like I said. The city was there, and then it wasn’t. I wish I had anything more to tell you.”

  Arc tempered his frustration with empathy for Bero. “I’m sorry to have troubled you with these questions. I’ll leave my contact details so you can send me a message if you hear anything potentially helpful.”

  He began to step away, but paused when Bero cleared his throat.

  “You don’t suppose . . . the people were just taken away? That they might still be alive? Without bodies, we can’t know for sure, right?”

  Arc kept his tone gentle. “If a large number of people had moved out of the city, I’d have seen some tracks or other clues. Besides, someone would have managed to get some sort of message into a hand comm. The Council has had the comm accounts of all the residents of Sorrow checked, and there isn’t a single mention of anything out of the ordinary. I’m sorry.”

  Bero spun away from the bar and began wiping down a table with far more vigor than the job required.

  Arc felt another pang of sympathy for the suffering barkeep. He removed himself from the barstool and joined Luc and Will in the corner of the pub.

  “The barkeep doesn’t know any more than we do. He couldn’t point me toward anyone to question, either, because no one knows anything.” He sat down beside Will, picked up a napkin, and crumpled it into a tight ball.

  Will set his empty glass on a table and watched Luc.

  Their de facto leader traced a finger around the rim of his glass absently. After a short silence, he tossed back the last of his drink and stood. To Arc, he seemed suddenly energized. “There’s nothing to gain by being here. We should return to the monorail station here and contact Magistrate Trewe. After she hears our findings, or lack thereof, she can decide how to proceed.”

  “Since we have no leads, it’s all we can do at this point,” agreed Will quietly. “We can take rooms at the station and wait for our next orders.”

  Arc offered, “If there’s an answer to be found, the magistrate will point us in the right direction. Besides.” He felt a wisp of humor. His adoration for his aunt transcended even their current crisis. “She loves to order me around.”

  They left on foot, just as they had arrived. Like most towns, Solace was situated within easy walking distance of a monorail station. As the hub of transportation, commerce, and the power grid, the monorail system and its many stations supported life on Terath and molded its infrastructure.

  Arc was glad for the time to think during their walk back to the station. He and Will trailed behind Luc, who set a brisk pace. The manahi made a thirty-minute walk into a twenty-minute one, without getting out of breath or seeming to break a sweat. Clearly, the man was far more fit than anyone his age that Arc had ever known.

  Immediately upon entering the main complex at the station, Arc found a public comm kiosk and left a message for Aunt Ina to contact them as soon as she was available. Afterward, the three men rented adjacent rooms for the night and occupied them for the purposes of refreshing themselves. A layer of ash and loss lingered on Arc’s skin and clothing. He was more than eager to rid himself of the sensation. He suspected Will and Luc felt the same.

  After showering and dropping his dirty clothes into his room’s compact laundry cycler, Arc chose to remain in his room. Though he usually preferred to seek out the company of others, he needed a little privacy to process the day’s revelations.

  Now clean and wearing a fresh pair of slim-fit pants and a tailored button-down shirt, Arc filled the time by giving his bow some maintenance. Carefully, he cleaned it and checked the tension. He examined each of his arrows and their ultralight fletching. The ritual gave him a sense of continuity and comfort. The first time he had cradled a bow as a young boy, he’d known he never wanted to let go of it. Consequently, he’d developed his innate skills in tracking and survival and become a renowned outdoorsman. Between his wilderness expeditions and the demand for his archery instruction, he never wanted for work to do. Industriousness pleased him, and doing what he loved best pleased him even more.

  During those expeditions, he taught people how to live simply within the embrace of wilderness. Arc thought it a tragedy to spend all of one’s life hovering next to a monorail and living only by modern conveniences. He appreciated those conveniences, sure, but reliance on them prevented a person from experiencing the joy of self-sufficiency. Enjoying the benefits of modern living while maintaining the skills for self-reliance was his personal ideal, and he derived great enjoyment from helping others discover the joy for themselves.

  When he was satisfied his bow and arrows remained in perfect form, he put them aside. He settled
in front of the room’s comm panel and let his mind think only simple thoughts as he checked through his messages.

  In the room next door to Arc, Will also maintained his arsenal. He’d pushed back the compact couch and the lightweight table to give himself room to move. The room’s comm panel had been mounted to the wall near the bed, so he needn’t worry about accidentally knocking it over.

  He didn’t notice the transition from afternoon to evening as he seamlessly moved from one strength exercise to another without pause. He drove one muscle group to its quivering limit, only to switch to another muscle group. He worked himself to sweaty exhaustion, breaking his body down so he could build it up stronger than ever. Devotion to his physicality was necessary for his profession, but the activity also gave him relief from the horrible images, both real and imagined, that stuck in his mind. Gradually, the images softened and receded just enough for his nerves to ease.

  When his body protested at doing even one more pushup, Will sprawled out on the floor. He dashed a hand across his sweaty forehead and wondered about Magistrate Trewe’s next orders while he waited for his heart rate to return to normal. His respect for the magistrate went beyond her well-earned reputation for being remarkably astute and principled. He’d first met her soon after he’d left home and taken up the blade professionally. In these past couple of years, he’d found himself increasingly in her employ. Initially, he simply provided security for a person or place of particular vulnerability, but as her trust in him grew, he’d taken on more complex tasks for her.