The Bearer of Secrets (Dark Legacy)
Page 13
A lone squad of the rage induced berserkers could carve a swath through an opposing force a hundred times its size. Member for member, his irreplaceable warriors held a merit and worth the Grand Royal Army would never achieve. Daniel would not trade one of his for a brigade of soldiers. But if his people were to die, they’d die like all Krey should, a sword in their hand and a scream ripping from their throats.
His eyes roamed to the flat black armor. Either by intentional design of the blacksmiths or by the runes placed by the Grand Master, his eyes drew uncontrollably to the darkness, just as the enemies’ eyes would. He gazed at the faces of the ‘virgins,’ the ones yet to enter true battle. Most would die. His eyes flickered to Xenomene, memorizing her face so when she did not return, he could recall her fondly. His eyes progressed to the veterans of the squad. They would die, too. Age granted wisdom while stealing speed and strength. He would start preparing individuals to augment the depleted force once the war kicked off. Who would survive and who would fall? Pride and heartache lanced through him, a moment any parent who sent their child off to war would know well. Damned if he did … fucked if he didn’t.
“Permission granted,” he relented gravely. Sympathy and respect crept into his voice. “Oblus ina’ti Sepan Eti.”
The Krey below slammed their fist into their chest. “Oblus ina’ti Sepan Eti!”
***
Chapter 14 : Judas
Judas found Julie at a tailoring shop not far down the road from the inn. From the shop’s sidewalk, he could still see their hotel. Julie finished as he arrived.
Madam Rose handed her a receipt and told her not to lose it. “Pick ‘em up around early evening. Mind ya’, we close before Apor sets.” The apprentice handed the receipt to her master, she’d lose it long before her robes were ready. Judas pocketed the slip after eying the bold letters ‘Stitched In Time,’ on the front.
The duo managed to snag the last few moments of breakfast upon returning to the inn, dining on eggs, bacon, oranges, fried bread, with mashed beans and goat’s milk.
After all he had done, and all that the wild tales claimed, Judas accepted the stares and gawks. Even now, he rarely gave it thought. Julie however, could not focus on her plate, her eyes darting around the dining room, making eye contact with the few people who remained. Earlier, when they checked in, two dozen littered the dining room. Now, only a handful remained.
A welcomed surprise came to the warlock when Julie kept her mouth shut and finished her meal, despite the infrequent, furtive glances shot periodically in their direction. With their meal finished, Judas stood, and ushered Julie from the room. With a warm and reassuring hand on her shoulder, he guided her past the gawkers. In his room, she plopped down in the chair Todd once sat in, her arms cross, brow frowning.
“You shouldn’t let them get to you,” Judas acknowledged, his voice gentle.
“I don’t understand!”
The elder sighed. “You’re still new here. You need to experience all the offerings of life, to understand each focal point in your life is not made up of two sides but several. That is the difference between intelligent people and fools, a closed mind or an open one. When you manage to, then make your judgment, and do so with sound logic, knowing you analyzed all facets.”
Her eyes darted to his, her brow soften, abandoning her scowl. “Are you closed minded?”
The question took him by surprise. The elder expected her to fixate on the patrons in the dining room. Instead, she turned the conversation around and went analytical, a testament to how her mind worked.
Judas took the seat opposite of her. “More often than not.”
“Why?”
“I would guess for the comfort I find in order and conduct, valuing my morals above those of the law, yet I follow the law to maintain order. It’s the structure of symmetry that’s appealing to me. Magic is about structure, harmony. Only those who use it for personal means distort it and make it chaotic.”
“You’re a warlock, an exile. You are above the law.”
“No,” he addressed. “Never above, outside.” He waved the comment away. “I think we should turn our focus to your training. We will not have much time along the way, but when we reach our destination, we’ll have more. It takes a lot of time and energy to train, and I intend to devote all my energy or as much of it as I can, to you. The hardest part is the first step. I cannot tell you what to search for no more than I can explain what it is like to breathe. That must come from within. Once you sensed your magic, the rest will come.”
“You trained others, right?”
“Yes,” he admitted, hesitant.
“But?”
“I’ve never trained someone from the beginning. In the past, by the time most came to me, they finished their tutelage at school. Some even apprenticed under another master prior to seeking me out. I never taught someone the basics; it was already long established. A learning experience for the both of us, I think.”
He stood, his head swiveling, searching, and spying what he sought. He moved to snatch it up. With a candle and holder firmly in his grasp, he held it out towards Julie before positioning the small night stand between them and setting the candle down.
“You know how to do magic, why don’t you use it to move the things you want?”
“Just because something can be done easier doesn’t mean it should be. I learned many years ago there is a certain pleasure in doing things the mundane way.” His eye twitched and a flame flared at the wick’s tip. “I will be learning as much as you.” He reached for her wrists, holding her hands up on either side of the candle. “I want you to influence the flame and if you can, snuff it out. Reach within, touch the magic coursing through your body. Realize you have the ability to call on magic, command it, and influence the candle. Appreciate the heat, the energy of the flame. Absorb it, bask in the warmth, and then–” the wick went out. A thin, wispy coil of smoke filled the air. He smiled, the wick ignited again. “Think you can do it?”
“So that’s it?” Julie queried. “Just influence the candle?”
“Yes.”
She blew the flame out. “Done.”
Judas chortled and relit the wick. “With magic, my dear, not ingenuity. The task is as much about influencing the flame as sensing your essence, where your ability to call upon magic comes from.” With a hunch in his back, he slouched in his chair, his gaze never wavering while Julie moved her hands up to the sides of the candle. He hoped it wouldn’t take long, but he expected her to fail many times before connecting with her essence.
Even as he waited, Judas realized even this menial task might be too much for her. Those born in Ermaeyth grew up with magic. Everyone influenced their essence to an extent, and those better adapted to magic pursued lucrative careers in a respective field. By the time he and other children went to school at age five, they managed to perform small magics themselves. Growing up in Ermaeyth made it as easy as breathing, but she didn’t grow up here. She had no idea what to look for, and it would take time.
To her credit, she did not whine or falter in her persistent efforts, the minutes trickling by without success. The wax of the candlestick melted like the hours. Lunch came and went, another candle acquired. The only time she moved from her post was to use the privy. She always returned to her seat, to gaze at the candle and study the flickering flame. By the time dinner came, her stomach growled loud enough for Judas to discern and he insisted she accompany him to dinner.
They dined on a thick stew of potatoes, carrots, pork and mushrooms over a bed of dense, fried bread, the latter so thick it required a knife. Julie tore into her plate with enthusiasm, devouring her portion moments after she received her meal. While she waited for her second helping, Judas noted she glanced around the dining room. Some of the faces changed, some didn’t. The ones remaining still wore scowls of dislike, discomfort, and suspicion. The new faces were oblivious to whom sat in their midst.
“Why don’t they recognize you?”
Julie kept her eyes moving, dancing between patrons, memorizing those of disdain and those oblivious. She shuddered and rubbed her arms as if cold and glanced back towards the kitchen.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I get the sense no matter what I see, hear, do … it seems so strange.”
“That is to be expected. You have amnesia.”
“I don’t remember this place, any of it, but the knowledge is there.” She tapped her temple.
“I believe that is the point of amnesia, my dear.”
“It feels so strange like I don’t belong or the knowledge doesn’t belong.”
“Monachopsis.”
“What?” she blinked at his word.
“A subtle but persistent feeling of being out of place? That something is not quite right?”
“Yes!” she confessed, latching on to the word like a lifeline. “That’s it!”
Judas nodded, knowing what she felt was his fault. With reluctance, he told her why she couldn’t remember everything though he was careful to leave certain elements out. He told her of where she came from, why he brought her back. She took the tale far better than he thought.
“I would have died if you left me?” The elder nodded. “Because someone is chasing you or me or both of us?”
He nodded again. “I believe whoever acquired the books from your shop intended not to leave any trace or evidence, even unsuspecting witnesses. It is my belief he or she would have returned to eliminate you. I may have killed the sheol while we retreated, but more were coming. The auras they gave off told me as much.”
“You used the Essence of Transference to give me knowledge?” She shrugged. “I would have died or come back and be stupid. You made the right decision, especially under the circumstances, and I would make the same choice.”
He smiled, relieved, but doubt crept in. The warlock knew they would eventually broach the subject again after she had time to let it sink in. When they did, her view might not be the same. He would face that obstacle when the time came. There was no sense in worrying about it now.
Her second helping arrived a few moments later, and they finished their meal. Judas saw Julie off to her room before going to his own.
The next morning he found her sitting in a chair in her room, the candle burning, her eyes intent on the flame. He regarded her progress for over an hour before he left her to her devices, unsure of how long it would take. He could help her, but was afraid she would grow dependent on his help. The first time was always best on your own, but if she didn’t sense her essence by the time they left for the Corridor, he’d help her. Retreating to his room, he realized he did not warn his friend T’son, of their imminent arrival. He planned to stay with him or at the inn at Wizard’s Pass.
T’son was a long-time friend and Judas hadn’t spoken to in many full moons. Reflecting, he failed to visit him for many years. Now, he would be lucky to call him an acquaintance. Some friendships were born out of want or need, some formed in youth, but those forged in war stuck forever. Like Meristal’s.
Crossing the room, he closed the cyan curtains, making it easier to see T’son without so much light. Once darkened, he approached the large, oval mirror hanging on the wall to the right of the fireplace. He waved is fingers minutely and the surface swirled in a fog of green.
“Who’s thur?” the thick accent came from the other side before the image formed.
Instead of seeing his reflection, the image of Judas’ friend appeared. The shorter, stockier man filled the mirror. His gleaming pate sparkled with a sheen of oil. What little hair remained, grew long and shaggy. His round face covered with a long, coarse beard of dark brown and gray and hid his cleft chin. His nose hairs rivaling his busy eyebrows.
“T’son,” Judas beamed.
“Judas? That ya? What ya doin’ callin’ s’late?” the other groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Late? It’s mid-morning, unless I am interrupting a nap. What are you going on about?”
“Well, hooey, snooty. Ya run a pub all night an’ see ho’ ya fare.”
“Ah, I always forget.” Judas said nodding, smiling. The warlock learned long ago sometimes to get what you desired without directly asking was to offer a less desirable solution. Politicians taught him that, his first teacher, his brother. Guilt racked him, he did not want to invite himself to T’son’s house. “Listen, would you like to take some time off and go with me to Marcoalyn? I could use a vacation and get away from the arrogance of Ralloc. What do you say? It’ll be like old times.”
“Ah, Judas,” T’son said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I’d like tha,‘ sure I would; but I can’t take off like tha,’ not anymore. I go’ dut’es here now.”
“So let someone else run the bar for you. I’m sure someone would be willing to mind it for a few days.”
“Nah, they’d drain all m’liquor, and I’d be broke. Besides, the crazy coots ‘ere gone an’ made me gov’nor. Why the hell they’d tha’ no one wi’ever knows.”
“Governor? You didn’t write to tell your old pal the good news? Did you forget about us up here in the mountains?” Judas chuckled.
“Hardly, snooty! Ya’ pompous arses up ‘n Ralloc can’t stan’ the stench down here, so ya’ forget ‘bout the likes of us is mo’ like it. If any one of ‘em Council membe’s eva’ bothe’ed to leave thur chambers, an’ come do’n here, why they couldn’ tell tha’ difference between pig shit and thur own farts. Damn dotards! Jus’ come ’ere.”
Judas allowed himself a chuckle at his friend’s ramblings, not only because of their truth but because of the way he talked. His accent and lack of proper articulation made him high entertainment at balls and political banquets. Whenever Judas could, he always invited his friend along with him, if nothing else for a silent laugh as people squirmed while T’son talked with his bizarre accent.
“So, why ya’ callin’ fur? Got an’other ball ya’ wan’ me to attend so ya’ can get ya’r laughs in?” Judas’ chuckling dried up, and he became stoic. “Yeah, I knew why ya’ always invited me,” T’son confirmed.
“Damn, and here I thought I was clever,” Judas jibbed, smiling. A large crash and the sound of shattering glass made Judas look away.
Julie!
He forgot about her as he talked with his old friend.
T’son heard it, too. “Wha’ the devils of the Abyss wa’ tha’?”
“A momentary lapse in remembrance,” Judas explained in a rush. “I did have a reason to call, but I got to go now. I’ll call back soon, I promise.”
“So, in ‘bou’ a fortnigh’?” T’son asked with sarcasm. “Fo’get vacation, jus’ come ’ere ta Wizard’s Pass.”
“Sooner, I promise, and sure, I’ll stop by!” Judas smiled and ended the transmission. The green fog swirled away and the surface of the mirror cleared. Another crash of shattering glass, this time, accompanied by a curse. A chuckle escaped him upon hearing Julie’s failed endeavors. Perhaps he needed to rescue her from herself.
Judas entered her room, the door opening with haste, but found her in the same position as he left her. She turned at his entry, a puzzled expression on her face. “I thought– Didn’t you just– I mean– Did you break something?” Julie shook her head in silence and another glass shattered in the distance, a room across the hall. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his robes. “Thank the gods,” he muttered. “I thought you hurt yourself.”
“Nope.”
Judas pushed further into the room, sitting opposite of her, noting the turbulence on her face. The flame burned calm, static, serene. Amber eyes glittered not with intensity but angst. She progressed beyond the desire to learn, to perfo
rm magic, to silent resentment. The warlock scrutinized the flame, hoping for a shift, a flutter, anything.
“To the Underworld with this!” she said, bounding to her feet, pacing. Her arms flailed about, emphasizing each word. “I sit, and I wait, and nothing happens! I feel nothing except anger and embarrassment at my stupidity!”
“Julie?” his soft voice called.
“I wasted my time and your time. A day and a half! That’s all it has been but a long time to sit through, to wait for something to happen!”
“Julie?”
“Maybe I am not meant to be a mage. The fairies are wrong, or they are right, and I’m what’s wrong. I feel so … agitated.”
“Julie?” Judas spoke louder.
“I don’t know how or why but I feel like I am missing things, pieces of myself.” She stopped, locking eyes with him. “I know you aren’t telling me everything. You didn’t tell me everything when you told me why you brought me here. What are you hiding? Why are you treating me like a child?”
“Julie!” Judas nearly shouted, breaking through. His eyes tracked from her face to the candle, and she followed his gaze. The flame danced before their eyes, not the flickering of flame in the wind, but with a mind of its own. Julie’s mind. It bent and rolled, curling on itself, responding to her emotional state. He glanced up at his apprentice but her gaze hardened. She ground her teeth and clenched her fist in frustration, the candle bursting as if crushed by an invisible force.
Judas sat as the shower of wax settled, impressed, but troubled by her anger. Though a natural attitude, a feeling of chaffing and irritation, she overreacted. Her eagerness to jump to the emotional spectrum, regardless if warranted or not, set him on edge. But he would not shadow her accomplishment by casting criticism. Julie’s raw power was hindered by her lack of affinity with magic. He had faith she would succeed with time.
“Congratulations, my dear! Wonderful.”