by Dawn Peers
"No, it's okay. Without you, we wouldn't even know he had this text. We're lucky he panicked. I can't think of any other reason he would have let you know it existed."
"Well he didn't let me know, really. I just assumed it had something to do with Quinn."
"That would be your healer brain at work, Maertn. Don't underestimate what you can do. I'll translate all of the healer section for you, when we know what Quinn is about."
"Thank you Ross, that means a lot. I'm not the important one now, though. Go on. I'm sure Quinn can tell us what she feels anyway, when she feels certain things."
"I know I know, it's just that she's only been taught by Sammah; she could find out so much more on her own if she just had access to that other text. Okay, I'm sorry, let's go on.”
The empath does not seem to change in ability at all until he reaches full maturity. In this case, being eighteen winters of age. After a crowd trauma, he fell in to a deep unconsciousness. Only the work of both of our healers, now fully mature and confident in their talents, brought him out of this latest malaise. Here within what they found when they looked in to the mind of the collapsed empath, in their own words: "His mind was dark and solid. Before, we have been able to push away any illness found there. Similar to other folk that have fallen ill inside the head, either through falls or other such head injuries. This time, we met a lot of resistance. The sickness had to be melted, before it could be pushed away. It took all of our strength to be able to do this; we felt incredibly drained after, though the empath himself has no apparent lasting illness, nor any recollection of falling ill, or feeling any pain." After this, our empath has appeared changed.
Like mature empaths in our past, he is now able to choose whose emotions to explore. He is able to feel the sensation of the emotions more deeply, and therefore is able to read them with more accuracy. Moreover, it appears that when the empath now comes in direct bodily contact with a subject, that emotion is yet more intensified. Positive emotions felt in this way leave him with euphoric joy. Negative emotions sourced directly, such as anger, especially when directed completely at the empath, have left him bedridden for days.
“This is what happened to Quinn, isn't it? Did you feel drained after you healed her?"
"No sir. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing, to be honest. I'm not sure Sammah really knew either. He was obviously just reading from the book and hoping I could do what it said."
"But do you realise the implications, Maertn? Two healers in this book completed that healing. Afterwards, they were exhausted. That means that you are more powerful than they were. The power of the healer has grown."
"Do you know how they could do that?"
Ross thought of the selective breeding throughout Sha'sek; even the men and women that had been imprisoned against their will, forced to produce gifted children, before strict laws were brought in to place. Not that that stopped anybody. "I have ideas. I'm not certain, though. We'd need to consult with scholars in Sha'sek itself to be sure. I don't know how many healers they have left, or how powerful they are."
"Would any of them have done the same thing?"
Ross shook his head. "Someone must have, but I don't think we would be able to find them. This stage, where the empath is pulled through by a healer, seems to be a common thing. As if they have to use a healer to be able to break out of a cocoon and realise the rest of their power."
"What else does it say? We know Quinn is already that powerful."
"Here. Let me see.
In the days following this healing, the empath started experiencing varying symptoms. He expressed to me a great feeling of pain in his mind. The healers are unable to see this. Where he has previously been unable to sense anything I have thought or felt, now making an enquiry on my emotions causes a great burning pain in his chest and on his skin. A healer had to attend to him the first time this happened, and his scream is of the like that I have never heard before. This is curious; for I have never heard of an empath before being able to sense anything from an apath.
Despite my love for the boy, I have felt compelled therefore to keep forcing him to sense emotion from me. I have kept these emotions positive at all times, trying to express to him the love I have built up to him in the bonds of family. He is a young man still though, and perhaps resentful of the pain this is causing him. He perseveres, and each time the pain has become greater, with much letting of blood from his mouth, nose and ears, when he makes such strains on himself. Fearing for his health, I have stopped this treatment.
It has been a year since I have last asked him to make enquiry of me. He now feels healthy, in full control of his will and his being. We have discussed the possibility of him again making enquiry of me. We have agreed, that healers will attend to him, and we will do this thing tonight.
My emotions are mixed, and they are heavy. We had success, unlike anything I have been able to describe before. He did it! He felt my love. I could see it on his face. He reached out to me, perhaps to acknowledge this. But in doing so, when we made contact, I caused him a greater pain than I ever have before. I will never forget his voice, which broke in his throat, such was the volume. Blood spewed forth from his mouth and from his nose. He was dead before the minute was out. I have caused this death on my own. It is clear to me, that an empath and an apath should never be allowed to meet physically."
Ross sat back, feeling slightly numb at the implications of the text. He had no doubt now that Sammah was the descendant of the Sammen that had completed these experiments. The text didn't end there, either. There was fresher ink, in a newer hand, and it was very similar to that of Sammah himself. Was Sammah going to continue these experiments on Quinn? Is that why he also needed Maertn?
"What is an apath, Ross?"
Ross stood away from the table, his hands shaking. He poured himself two more tankards of ale, swallowing them down before he could turn to Maertn and ask what should have been such a simple question. "An apath, in every single way, is the opposite of an empath. Where an empath can feel the emotions of others, an apath feels none. They have no sensitivity to the concerns and cares of others. They are therefore very logical and detached. This is why Sammen was able to carry on his research on this empath."
"But you read that he loves. How can he love if he doesn't feel emotion?"
"How many times has Sammah claimed to love both you, and Quinn?"
"Many but...are you saying Sammah is one of these? He's an apath?"
Ross nodded. "Sammen is his ancestor, I am sure of it more now than ever, because I know beyond doubt that Sammah is an apath. They are not as rare as empaths, and their abilities often lead them to careers in court. You can imagine how not becoming overcome with emotion can come as a great benefit. But spending time around normal people makes you believe you have an understanding of the way they work. Sammah has studied emotion, therefore he believes he knows what love should feel like. He has never experienced it, but he knows it is something that is expected between a father and a child. Therefore he tells you and Quinn, that he loves you. He doesn't. He's just expressing something he knows he should feel."
"Oh. Well, that changes a lot of things, doesn't it? Here, do you think Sammah picked me to be an orphan, just because he had found Quinn?"
"I think as soon as he found an empath, reading this, he knew he had to find a healer. It seems almost certain that Quinn would have died if you had not been around to heal her."
Despite himself, Maertn bristled with pride. He alone had healed someone in a manner that, in the past, had taken two of his kind. And he hadn't been taught. What more was there for him to learn? What could that book tell him about himself, that Sammah had so far kept secret? What more did it tell them about Quinn? "You said there had been one other empath recently. I've heard about the war, but we don't hear about him. What happened to him? They seem important, to Sammah at least. And if he knows this much about the gifted," Maertn waved at the book "he should have a very good reason for wantin
g to keep a hold of Quinn."
"You'll only hear about him for the asking. Neither side really wants to admit to the existence of Baron Talin."
"Another baron? Is Sha'sek full of them?"
"Sort of. You'll find out if you ever go. Every family that rules a city state earns the title; every man in that family will also carry that title. So whilst Sammah is not the ruler of a state, the fact his brother is, means that Sammah, too, earns that moniker. Baron Sammen, who started this research, was a ruler in his own right. That might explain some of the grudges our own Sammah holds to the world in general. That, and his apath tendencies. All he sees is a logical past, and a future that should have been his. He is therefore taking the steps required to secure that future again. And he is using this research to forge a way forward."
"What else does it say?"
Ross started tracing his fingers across Sammah's words. He explained to Maertn "This is not all from Sammen. Sammah has been doing his own research, filling in some blanks that have been left. It seems that Quinn has been causing him some surprises. I haven't read everything yet about the healers; it seems that you, too, are exceeding expectations. The suggestion that powers become stronger over generations might have some credence after all. Here.
Over the years I had thought my empath was the same as Samman's; indeed she had been showing the same lines of growth and the same tendencies, feeling the same range of emotions and in the same way. However, it appears that her power has matured some distance before her eighteenth year. This may be an indicator of greater power, or perhaps an inaccuracy in dating her birth. I suspect more of the latter.
Her healing was flawless and by an untutored healer. He must be sent to Sha'sek for either study or enhancement. He would be worth his weight in gold in mating fees." Ross blushed; so did Maertn. Maertn didn't ask what that meant. The meaning of the text was clear enough. "My studies of Nerren, in its own volume, go well alongside the development of Quinn. Another text? Any idea what this might mean?" Maertn had no idea. Most of Sammah's books and scrolls were alien to him. "Of course, my apologies. Remind me to start teaching you Sha'sek script after this."
"If we survive this." Maertn muttered.
"Indeed. Here. There's not much left.
I am going to force Quinn through the final stages of her maturity. In the same way that this caused death to previous empaths, I believe that she will follow the path of Nerren, the most likely candidate for her patronage, and survive. Like Nerren, I believe she will show the ability to manipulate emotion. She has already shown vulnerability to my powers, however unlike previously, this has only resulted in pain, and not in the loss of bodily fluid. Whilst I expose myself to her reading after this point, she will be sufficiently bent to my will that she will not have a choice but to cede to my wishes.
Finally, I will complete the experiment eventually desired by Sammen; the mating of an empath and an apath, and identifying whether this would create a creature capable of both manipulating and being immune to the weakness of emotion."
"He wants to...to mate with her?"
"Spoken like a true apath." Ross muttered darkly.
"We have to confront Sammah with this! He has to be stopped! Quinn can't know this. He's either going to kill her, or..."
"Don't say it, Maertn. I feel sick just thinking about it."
"How could he use us like this?" Frustrated tears glistened in Maertn's eyes. "He's used me to keep her alive, just so he can complete his filthy experiments. So, what? That she can manipulate emotions? What good will that do?"
"What good? Think about it, Maertn. She can't change people's memories, but she could change their future. She could make the king fall madly in lust with a goat, for all he'd be able to resist. She'd be able to make someone so angry that they'd take sword against someone, and she'd be able to direct who that person is. She'd...she'd be able to make anybody try to assassinate the king."
"No. No that's not right. That's not fair. He can't do that to Quinn."
"He can. And I'd would put a lengthy wager on who that murderer would be. Who could Quinn get close to? And if touch enhances power, who could she really place her hands on that could swing a sword at the king?"
Maertn put his head in his hands and groaned. “Oh, Eden. We're all being used. We have to find her."
"Oh I don't know about that." Ross's door swung open on a quiet hinge. "You can just come and wait with me. She'll be along shortly. I might need your help, Maertn, as you fully well know. Well done, Ross. Not quite the way I'd expected you to help me, but we reach the right conclusion nonetheless. I shall leave you in the safe hands of my men. Maertn, you can come with me."
Before he could object, Ross pulled him out of the chair by the throat of his shirt.
"Do what he says lad. You're the only person that can keep Quinn alive."
44
Quinn felt like she was floating through the halls. She had never known emotions or sensations like them. Her skin was still on fire, and her heart was singing like a firebird in the highest tree. She almost felt carefree enough to take a twirl or two, and completely glided past the dumbfounded looks of Yvonne before Grainne caught her eye; the girl had a cheek that looked like it was turning blue. Yvonne hustled the other girl away before Quinn could speak to them, and she felt her spirits falling back down to the ground as she realised they were avoiding her, and the world was all back to normal after all, no matter how Eden felt about her.
Walking with flat feet and long strides, her head once more down, she made her way through the walkways of Everfell. She didn't look up until she came into her quarters. She almost jumped out of her skin, therefore, when she was met by the malicious grin of Elias. Before she could even call out in shock, he had grabbed her by the throat. His hand crushed effortlessly around her windpipe. She lashed out at him, slapping at his vice-like fingers before scratching her hands down his arm. He didn't even wince as she felt skin come up underneath her fingernails, and saw bloody streaks appear down his forearm. She tried to kick out at him, but her legs were too short, and his reach too long. She felt the pain in her head reappear, and as her vision grew dark with bright stars, she felt the heat of blood gushing from her nose. In a last desperate gasp she lashed out to him, a sense of utter hatred packed behind her will. His smile didn't falter. When he saw her eyes glaze over, he finally released her, letting her fall heavily to the floor as if she were naught but a child's doll. With little effort, he hauled her over his shoulder. That was easier than he had suspected.
45
Eden couldn't keep the grin off his face. His father had noticed, despite the copious amount of wine he'd already consumed that day. Shiver had responded in good cheer, but had been reduced to roars of rage when one of the maids had tripped with his latest tankard, spilling the contents over their rug. Eden had felt sorry for the girl. She rose with a great bruise on her face. He hadn't seen her come in, and didn't know if that had been there already, or was caused by her fall. He hadn't had time to ask, as he'd been immediately dismissed to complain to and fetch the chamberlain. The girl had fled the room before him, so he knew that she was at least clear of his father's wrath. Glad to have an errand to keep him out of the way of the short temper of Shiver, Eden had begun to whistle through the hallways, memories of Quinn’s soft lips springing readily to mind. As he walked up to Ross's door though, it was clear something was amiss. It was slightly ajar; Ross never left his door ajar. Eden opened it to see two mercenaries in there. They were rifling through Ross's belongings. The man himself was crumpled in a heap on the floor, a dark stain spread underneath him unlikely to be anything but blood. With a scowl, Eden patted at his waist. He wasn't wearing his sword. His eyes moved frantically around the room, looking for anything he might use as a weapon. There should have been plenty of candidates in a room that belonged to a former mercenary. Looking behind him, he saw a heavy mace hanging on the wall from a simple leather hoop. Perfect.
Eden lifted it silently, surpris
ed by its heft and almost dropping it. With mental thanks to Under, Eden crept up on them. Judging the first man to be the larger of the two, he raised the mace high over his head in both hands and brought it crushing down onto the back of the skull of the first mercenary. It hit home with a sickening crunch and the man crumpled to the floor instantly. His comrade whirled around, his eyes wide in shock that anyone in this nursery of a city would dare attack them. He pulled a sword from his belt. Eden saw though, that the man was reacting from instinct of the battlefield. The long curved, and quite frankly, blunt sword was going to do him little use in confined quarters. Eden jumped back from the first massive swing, then danced to one side and ducked under the predictable backslash. The mercenary hissed in frustration. Eden crouched in to a fighting stance, looking for any opening he could use to bring the situation over to his advantage. The man had him beaten in most aspects—height, reach, and weight, but he did not have Eden's lightness of foot, and he did not have the quickest of minds. Eden kept ducking the awkward hacks of the mercenary, moving closer and closer to the man who, too late, realised Eden was making for his knife. With a desperate yell, Eden crossed the distance between them, reaching for the blade at the mercenary's belt. He yanked it free of its sheath with a triumphant roar, but lost his balance and fell. The movement on the belt brought the mercenary with him, though, and as Eden twisted to fall, he brought the knife up, held hard in both hands. The mercenary fell on top of him, and his eyes went wide as the knife slid in to his belly. Blood dripped from the mercenary's mouth and onto Eden's cheeks. The young captain twisted his face to one side in disgust, and with a heave, tried to move the body. He couldn't; the mercenary weighed too much. He rocked, trying to build some momentum in the space, and after three small rocks, was able to heave enough of the body off so that he could sit up.
