The Chosen (The Compendium of Raath, Book 1)

by Michael Mood

  “Most people are confused," Forstina assured him. "The magic of this world is real, and growing stronger by the day. For example, I am a Devotee. My intuition is a part of my power, but there is more to our art if you would let me work it.” She held her hands out to him, palms up.

  Krothair placed his hands gently on top of Forstina's, not really knowing what else to do. He was entirely caught up in this. Forstina wasn't beautiful, but she was intriguing.

  “I will heal your mind as best I can,” the girl said as she closed her eyes. “It helps if I say a prayer while I am working. Will you be offended?”

  “No,” Krothair said, “but please be careful of the pinky on my right hand.”

  Forstina adjusted her hands slightly. “Is that better?”

  Krothair nodded and then, realizing Forstina's eyes were closed, said, “Yeah.”

  Something began to happen to Krothair as he sat in that isolated tent. Forstina began to speak, but he wasn't really listening to the words so much as the rhythm of them, and he began to feel things release inside of him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. The burning herbs soaked his senses and suddenly he had an intensely powerful urge to lean forward and kiss the girl. He probably would have done it, too, but something stopped him.

  He felt watched by a presence greater than himself for the first time in his life. His brain surged between belief and disbelief. He'd heard of revelations like this happening to others.

  Krothair's faith in everything wavered. Suddenly stories he had heard – things he had initially dismissed as wishful thinking and faulty faith – became more than stories. They became possible realities he had never fully considered.

  He wanted to know so much more about the world he had shut out. If he went back to Ti'Shed maybe he could learn how to become a Servitor. He couldn't give up and dismiss it as fantasy just because he couldn't do it.

  “Til'men,” Forstina said. That seemed to end her deluge of words.

  Krothair stood up in the tent and Forstina followed his lead. “I don't have any money,” he said.

  “Few we help do.”

  “I wish I had something to give you for what you have done for me.”

  “It wasn't so hard saying a simple prayer like that,” the girl said, a hint of innocent mischief in her voice.

  “You have restored something to me. A drive I had lost.”

  “Remember the magic of the world, Krothair,” she said. “And remember that no matter how dark it gets, the sun will always rise again.” Forstina dusted off her robe despite the fact that it was still spotless.

  “Yeah,” Krothair said. “Yeah. Thank you.” Forstina exited the tent Krothair followed her into the brightness of the afternoon. His eyes took a while to adjust, and just as they did, he saw Forstina resuming her emissary duties on the street. She approached a man who was covered in sores from head to toe.

  Oh good. She's finding other poor wretches like me, Krothair thought.

  -3-

  The sun was setting. Krothair had stayed all day in the city, simply walking around taking in the sights, sounds, and experiences. He had misjudged his experiences in the past. Thought I knew the world. Bah. Germon must've thought I was an idiot to talk like I did. Krothair began to think about himself as a very small fish in a very large pond.

  Forstina was also fresh in his mind. She had possessed a confidence that had made her seem much older than her years and much bigger than her frame. Krothair wondered how he could have that sort of power for himself. I was probably closer to getting it weeks ago.

  He was reluctant to reenter TiShed's house, but he girded himself and pushed through the front door, dying to know the answers to his questions about magic.

  The sword master sat at the table with his head down on his powerful forearms. The tin of Duller sat before him, the top askew and some of the powder smeared on the grainy wood. Krothair breathed in and told himself that it was none of his business. He knew that whatever emotions Ti'Shed was covering with the Duller were frightening indeed.

  Krothair sat in the chair across from Ti'Shed and the second he did the sword master whipped the cover onto the Duller tin and made it disappear. Krothair was amazed at the old man's reaction time even through the haze of drugs and exhaustion.

  “We need to talk,” Krothair said.

  “'Bout what?”

  “About something you told me last week. About that woman Servitor. Are all the Kingsguardians Servitors too?”

  Ti'Shed looked up at him, face rather dull. “You wanna know about magic, then? I suppose our training can continue in that way, although I believe that may be a distracting waste of time for you.”

  “Why is it a waste of time?”

  Ti'Shed sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “Magic is a rare and unpredictable thing. If you don't have it by now, I would be very surprised if you developed it at all. The secrets of how to use Servitor magic are heavily guarded as you might suspect. Even if someone with the spark is found, they aren't necessarily trained immediately, or ever.”

  “That was part of your surprise when you fought Katya.”

  Ti'Shed grunted. “When I was working with Kelin and Telin-” Here Ti'Shed paused abruptly as if he were trying to remember back that far. “They were so young. When I worked with Kelin and Telin they weren't Servitors yet, just incredibly skilled swordsmen. Then, once they became Servitors, their powers were erratic and impossible to control.”

  “How did they become Servitors in the first place?”

  “It takes a true act of Service to feel the spark of that magic in you. Defending someone, saving a life, carrying an incredibly heavy burden, giving someone just what they need right when they need it. It might be all, one, or none of these things that sets off the magic, or it might just choose its own time. God grants things in mysterious ways.”

  “Katya's only service to me was going to be making sure I couldn't have children,” Krothair said. “How does she possess such powerful magic if she can use it to try and accomplish such awful things?”

  “It's true that in order to build power – once you have the magic, I mean – you must Serve others. But whatever you choose to do with the power you collect is up to you. My guess is that that woman lives a double life. She must, at some points in time, Serve others in some capacity, but then she chooses to use her powers for thieving. Or jewel removal.”

  “You seem to understand so much,” Krothair said. "If I develop the magic . . . can you teach me how it works?"

  Ti'Shed smirked, his eyes and personality still dulled for the time being. “Knowing how shiny a sword is does not mean you know how to swing it, Krothair. Knowing that a fish swims in the water doesn't mean you know how it breathes. Knowing that the sun is hot-”

  “Alright,” said Krothair. He actually laughed a little.

  This easy conversation was fairly typical of this time of night. Ti'Shed was an unforgivable beast on the training field, but he was rather easy to talk to as the day wore on. Perhaps the Duller built up during the day, pouring out all of its considerable ability to mute emotions near dusk. Ti'Shed's apology for the the training that day would be coming soon, as it had most other nights.

  “I don't want you to get too distracted by this topic,” the sword master said. “There's no use dreaming about things you can't do. That sort of nonsense only detracts from the moment at hand.”

  “What if I feel the spark someday?” Krothair asked.

  “If you do,” Ti'Shed said, “I want you to tell me right away.” The sword master sighed. “Krothair, I'm sorry about how things went today. I warned you that a part of myself is tearing away.”

  “I know,” Krothair said. “I'm sorry I went away today.”

  “You were right to, I think. And you came back alive with your manhood intact. That's always important.”

  Ti'Shed rose slowly from his chair, wincing slightly as he did. He shuffled slowly off to his bedroom and, without another word, went inside with the t
iniest opening and closing of the door.

  Krothair sat at the table thinking for another half-bell, moving not a muscle, just feeling out his emotions.

  An owl hooted outside. It was the first time Krothair had heard that sound inside the city. He went outside to see if he could find the bird, but it wasn't in sight. The moon was bright overhead and Krothair went to the well and sat on its low wall, content to be alone, silent, and unmoving.

  Everything that had happened today had become rather commonplace, actually. In the morning Ti'Shed would yell Krothair out of bed or, if that failed, haul him out into the training yard using some new hold that Krothair hadn't yet learned. They would train until Krothair was physically and mentally exhausted, and then they would work some more, Ti'Shed swooping and diving aggressively, trying – it seemed – to bombard Krothair with so much knowledge that it was more of an attack than a tutorial. Then, by night, once Krothair was ready to walk away from everything, Ti'Shed would apologize, then Duller himself to sleep.

  But Krothair knew that it would start again the next morning.

  He decided that this cycle would never end unless he did something more drastic. Going away for a bit today wasn't enough. He needed to stop being passive and hoping that everything would pass. It was time to take some action.

  For better or worse he had to find the thing that had started all of this, and seek his answers from there.

  Tomorrow, he swore, he would find that red-sheathed sword.

  Chapter 15 – Protectors

  -1-

  Halimaldie wore his heaviest leather gloves despite the heat. Aside from his gloves he was reasonably attired in his least flashy clothing. He was sweating already, though, and it wasn't just from the heat. He was nervous again. This is a feeling I don't enjoy.

  He'd put off this visit to the hospital for five days already, but the promise he had made to his brother had finally pushed him to act. Halimaldie hadn't exactly been supportive of the hospitals, and the irony of needing to use one wasn't really lost on him. But his hand more now. The infection had been slowly spreading, now getting under his nails and turning them black as well. It had spread to the back of his hand and was threatening to crawl further up his arm.

  Halimaldie's hands were down at his sides ready to grab his twin daggers if he needed them. He knew that back alleys were seedy, and Halimaldie's heart beat faster as he walked them.

  Finally – and thankfully without incident – he stood before the fifth district hospital. It was a large building that looked as if it had been cobbled together from all sorts of materials by many different hands. Every single window was boarded over and the front door – if the slab of uncarved wood was indeed a door – was dented in the middle as if some great battering ram had struck it at one point in its history.

  “What a shit-heap,” he said to himself. “This is what the Kingdom's taxes pay for?”

  The door grated open noisily on rusty hinges when he pushed on it and Halimaldie was immediately greeted by many strange smells, most of them surprisingly clean. From the outward look of the place he had expected dung and blood, but he was met with a pine smell and another of fragrant soaps.

  “Hello?” he called into the quiet, candle-lit building.

  He stepped inside and found himself in some kind of waiting room. There was a shoddy desk at one end and a few candelabrum on the walls. The flames glowed unnaturally, and he wondered for a moment if they were magical. Here I am wondering if everything strange is magical now. What is happening to me? A breeze blew lightly through the place despite the fact that he could see no openings to the outside.

  This was truly like another world.

  A woman materialized out of the shadow and glided over to the desk, looking much like the moving branches of a willow. She was graceful and powerful and Halimaldie couldn't help but stare at her.

  “Are you Tellurian's brother?” she asked.

  “Resemblance that strong?”

  The woman nodded and smiled gently. “It's not unnoticeable. He's out right now, but told me all that I need to know.”

  “I can't believe he's out. Maybe I'll come back later. I really wanted him to be here.”

  “Well you didn't make an appointment,” the woman said. Is she one of the tree witches – Protectors – that Tell had been talking about? She certainly seemed a creature of natural beauty. “He has other things that he does, you know. He doesn't just hang about the district hospital waiting for you.”

  “I know,” Halimaldie said, blushing. “I guess it was foolish to expect him to be here all the time.”

  The woman laughed. “My name is Yarrow. I'll be taking care of you, Halimaldie.”

  Halimaldie winced. “I'd appreciate if you wouldn't just throw my name around like that.”

  “There is no reason to worry. We protect all of our clients, even a man of your stature.”

  “Especially a man of my stature.”

  “Even a man of your stature.” Yarrow smiled again. A small brown bat fluttered down out of the air and landed on Yarrow's shoulder.

  “There's a-”

  “A bat on my shoulder? Yes. He seems to be quite a threat, doesn't he?” Yarrow leaned her head over and nuzzled the bat. Halimaldie became aware of the disgusted look on his face and worked to correct it immediately.

  He had suddenly plunged himself into a world he knew nothing about. Why hadn't I known anything about this, though? And what are the possibilities if magic is real?

  “Society could make such a better use of us,” Yarrow said, “but we are either feared, shunned, or disbelieved.” Obviously she had noticed the look on Halimaldie's face. “Perhaps you will become a believer today.”

  “I like to think I take things at face value,” Halimaldie said. He now wished he had finished his drink before coming here. Has this world been under my nose for my whole life? Have I been too caught up in other matters to see it?

  Yarrow smiled. “Come with me,” she said. She held out a hand that floated gracefully in front of her. Halimaldie took it, as he guessed he was expected to do.

  “I could get used to this,” he said, feeling the warmth of it.

  “Oh, yes,” Yarrow said, lightly. “It is peaceful in here.”

  That hadn't been what Halimaldie meant.

  They descended a large staircase into pitch blackness.

  -2-

  “I understand the hand holding now,” Halimaldie said. “But why does it have to be so dark?” He wasn't sure he liked this situation, but he had come this far and he was incredibly curious.

  “The hospital is a refuge as much as it is a place of Healing. This keeps everyone safer. Tully here tells me where to go.”

  “Who's Tully?”

  “My bat.”

  “He can talk to you?”

  “Yes,” Yarrow said, her voice echoing as if they were in a great space.

  “Who is this place a refuge for?” Halimaldie asked.

  Yarrow didn't say anything for a few moments as she slowly stepped forward, tugging Halimaldie along. “I thought a man in your position would know more of the world,” she said.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  “Protectors are hated. Perhaps you didn't hear about the battle of the Dryad Tree during the war. It was the one that ended it.”

  “The battle of Shai Springs ended the war,” Halimaldie said.

  Yarrow sighed in the darkness. “They covered it up for all these years. The battle at the Dryad Tree was the great victory of my people, and both Kingdoms covered it up, slaughtered us because of the power we'd had.”

  Halimaldie could tell he had made some sort of mistake so he abandoned that line of questioning. “What happens if someone just brings a candle down here?”

  “You think a mere candle can pierce this Darkness?”

  “My God,” Halimaldie said, becoming a little frightened. “What are you tree witches capable of?”

  “See what I mean?” Yarrow said sadly.
/>   Halimaldie cursed himself. “I'm sorry.”

  They walked in silence after that until Yarrow pulled a door open.

  Two things began to happen at the same time: Halimaldie saw a room filled with color and life, and his diseased hand began to pulse and throb in time with some unknown rhythm.

  -3-

  Halimaldie began to pick at his glove, trying to relieve the pressure he now felt from it, and at the same time he tried to take in his surroundings. The room they had entered wasn't huge, but it certainly felt that way. Murals had been painted on the ceiling that mimicked the sky so perfectly that Halimaldie had to convince himself it wasn't real. Plants grew in abundance and there was also a faint breeze down here, just as there had been in the reception area upstairs.

  There were beds and hammocks lining the walls and Halimaldie saw people who must have been patients lying on most of them. Other women – very much like Yarrow in their demeanor and dress – moved about the room tending to one person or another.

  All in all the room probably held two-hundred people: mostly patients, a scant few Protectors, and still others who looked like they fit neither role.

  “There's a whole other world down here,” Halimaldie said. “Who would want to harm this? It's beautiful.”

  Yarrow bowed her head. “Most people simply fear what is different, or what they don't know. Seeing with your own eyes is a start, but for most people that's not good enough either.”

  Halimaldie found that he had subconsciously rolled his right glove down, exposing a bit of his disease to the open air. He could feel it pulsing more strongly as he moved farther into the room. Is it reacting to the magic that flows through the air here?

  “Sit,” Yarrow said, motioning to an empty bed. “We'll have a look at your injury. And for God's sake don't pick at it.”

  Halimaldie sat on the clean, white sheets with Yarrow across from him. He stripped off the rest of his glove and let it fall to the floor. She cradled his hand in hers again.