by Kyle Belote
The pine creaked, the nails ripping from their burrowed homes, splintering the wood. With a clatter, the lid fell to the floor. A wispy plume filled the air. Unconsciously, the Betrayer took a few steps to peer inside. Copious dust littered the interior. A tight grin tugged at the corner’s of the Betrayer’s mouth before he remembered where he was. Sid knelt, running his fingers through the fine powder.
“Are we sure this is the one?” he inquired, his voice quaking with fear.
He worries that he got the wrong one and what the Dark Lord will do with his failure.
“I am sure,” the Mirror confirmed, voice distant. “Soon I will be complete again.”
“Yes, my lord,” Sidjuous said, rising. “Soon you will reign and no one to stand in your way.”
“That is not true.”
“What do you mean, my lord?”
“Judas Lakayre still lives, and I sense something … strange.” The news prickled the Betrayer’s ears. Judas consumed Xilor’s thoughts, the fact that he mentioned another was both odd and disconcerting. It bode both trouble and opportunity. Who would be worthy of his notice?
Who could Xilor be referring to?
“You shall brush both aside,” Sidjuous blustered.
“Fool!” Xilor hissed, his voice shrill. Agony pierced the Betrayer’s ears. He winced. “It is an aura I know not.” Sidjuous fidgeted, waiting for the Dark Lord to expound. When nothing came, the golden-haired apprentice spoke. “You will crush all resistance across Ermaeyth.” The Betrayer released an undetected sigh.
“An aeonian reign, eternal.”
“Fitting for one such as you, master.”
“And for his wife,” a light voice called out, concluding Sid’s statement. The Betrayer blinked, shocked at the interruption. Disbelief followed swiftly, recognizing the voice. He turned his head in the direction of the door.
“Ah, yes, you will reign with me, my betrothed,” Xilor purred. The Betrayer’s face fell. Olga strode to the center of the room. Her coppery hair shimmered. Adorned in a sheer, dark green sybaritic robe with plunging neckline. She left little unseen. Dismay washed through him. Olga was one of the young children he sacrificed his future for. She always flaunted his steadfast advice; she now seemed supplicant to Xilor’s teachings.
Olga worded her response delicately. “What worthy gift could I offer my master as a token of my devotion?”
“Gift?”
“A sacrifice, my love,” Olga offered. “Would that be sufficient for you, my lord?”
“Yes, a sacrifice would suffice; what would you deem worthy to forgo? To lose your life and for me to revive you would be a sign of your growing passion and trust, would it not?”
“A sacrifice of my blood, my lord,” she hesitated. Her eyes betrayed her inner turmoil. She did not envision dying and coming back, but she needed a sign that showed her commitment to him and his cause.
“Intriguing. You wish to lose your life-flow and filled with my blood?”
“No, my lord,” Olga said quietly, a coy smile curling on her face. “I wish to give you my dedication. As a sign of my undying devotion, I will give you the soul of my sister, Miza.”
“No!” the Betrayer barked suddenly, startled by what he heard. He cast aside all pretense of invisibility. His mind erupted in panic. How could Olga be so evil? Hadn’t he taught her better than that?
“You object to this, Turncoat?” The eyes slide to the Betrayer as he took urgent steps forward.
“Yes, my lord,” he protested, trying not to stammer. “Surely there should be another way to display her loyalty to you.”
“Yes, her loyalties, but since you object, I begin to wonder of yours. Your amative passions reveal your weakness and duplicity, Turncoat.”
The Betrayer knelt on the hard stone in front of the Mirror, this humbling action arousing a snigger behind him from Olga. She moved forward, watching the Betrayer’s face as he spoke.“My lord, when I entered your service, I did so under the pretense that my servitude, along with your mercy, spared the life of my own.” He swallowed hard, knowing his next words skirted close to outright defiance. “I have never known you to be without honor or backing from your bond. My only wish is to ensure our agreement is honored.”
Curiosity prickled Olga’s face as she looked between the Betrayer and the Mirror. He worded the statements to be ambiguous. Only he and the Dark Lord knew what transpired, and all attempts to find out by his other apprentices went unanswered.
“Noted,” Xilor avowed. “I shall decide after my return and the war is well underway.”
Relief washed over the Betrayer, but doubt and worry gnawed in its wake. He carefully masked his feelings behind a placid face. Bowing his head, he thanked Xilor and rose to leave.
“Going somewhere?” Xilor asked acidly.
“Yes, master. I wish to change and bathe, and don fresh clothing. The stench of trolls still fills my nostrils” the smooth lie came. He bowed his head, waiting for permission.
“You may go,” Xilor said. “Sidjuous, begin transferring the ash. Only one thing remains and the hour grows near–”
The Betrayer shut the door behind him, cutting off his words. He would do as he said but Miza was who he wanted to see. Another whiff of his robes reminded him that a bath was in order first. Relieved to have postponed a calamity, he set off for his rooms.
***
Chapter 37 : Swamp Of Sorrows
“Why can I see a blue swirl when we teleport?” Julie inquired once they emerged.
“You can see that?” he blinked at her. “I am surprised. Not all people can detect the effects of teleportation. To answer your question, I am not trying to mask my abilities from you. If I did, you’d never see anything.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile.
Julie weighed his words, mulling them in silence.
“Come Julie. A treacherous journey lies ahead,” Judas said. He turned and climbed a steep incline. Julie paused a moment longer before following.
An ache burned in her legs before long. Glancing up, she noticed that Judas already started the downward trek. He seemed keen to keep his distance, but he did say the way would be perilous, maybe even unpredictable, and decided to take a good lead.
Maybe he needs alone time.
Julie let her mind drift as she started a hustled decent. Meristal’s face floated before her mind’s eye. She wondered briefly how her life and training would have turned out under her tutelage. Several times, she almost lost her footing while she hastened, managing to gain ground on the warlock.
He prompted discussion once they were in earshot of each other. “What are you contemplating?”
“Nothing,” Julie lied.
“Would ‘nothing’ include Madam Raviils?”
“You can read my thoughts, can’t you?”
“No, just the gist, more like getting an image with no captions. Comes in handy sometimes, other times, you might gain a quick death.”
“Yes, I was thinking about Madam Raviils.”
“And?”
Uncomfortable with facing the truth, she switched subjects. “I thought you said we were entering a swamp?” The moment she questioned, her boot sunk a few centimeters, a thick sloshing sound escaping from the ground. “Terrific.” Her foot stuck in the muddied ground, making each step arduous. After a dozen encumbering strides, she called out, “How far until we reach solid ground?”
“Too far, but we’ll make it alright,” Judas said, unworried.
“Too far? What if we tire? Then what?”
“Then, we drown,” Judas heckled, trying to hold back his laugh.
“Now is not the time for jokes. I could use answers.”
Better answers would have helped me in the Corridor!
Knowing she wouldn’t receive any, she let the matter drop, simmering with discontent. With each step she grew more perturbed, his latest half-answer and jest riled her. She didn’t mind jokes and cutting up, but now was not the time. Worry whittled her. She set her foot down,
expecting thick mud but instead warm, stagnant water reeking of rot and decay splashed, drenching her cheek and nearly entered her mouth. She decided she disliked water of any type other than a bath. Dark, brown slosh churned in the wake of her foot, the mossy green froth riding the ripples before closing the sudden breach.
Judas stopped ahead and by the time she reached him, her back was soaked with sweat and her hair matted the sides of her face. “Now, we swim.”
“Couldn’t we teleport to where we are going?” she queried, panting and disgruntled.
“Yes, we could, but it’s considered an insult,” Judas replied.
“What is?”
“Barging into someone’s home unannounced. Well, their yard.”
“Who’s yard?”
“Saricrocians. That is why I am taking the lead.” His blue eyes swept over her. “You’re tired. Here,” he offered. He withdrew his wand, and a wave of warmth and energy cocooned, leeching the ache and fatigue from her body. “Do you remember in Dlad City when you collapsed from magical exhaustion?” She nodded. “That’s what the rejuvenating spell is for.”
Relief suffused her. Judas accompanied her, and while this place was heinous in its way, it was not the Corridor of Cruelty. He’d take care of her.
Maybe he is turning over a new leaf? What could go wrong?
“And just when you think nothing can go wrong,” Judas cut into her silent musings, “something does; so keep a good lookout. There are dangerous creatures about.”
Great!
“I wish you would stop doing that!” she snapped. “That is a real pain in the ass when you can’t openly think because someone is listening in.”
“What are you talking about?” Judas frowned, a puzzled look coming to his face.
“You read my mind. Just stop, okay?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, my dear. I haven’t read your mind. It’s an invasion tantamount to taking advantage of an inebriated woman. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He moved forward and Julie was grateful for the space between them, the matter seemingly dropped. Water kicked up in his wake as she watched him sink deeper and deeper. Before long the water rose past his waist. She followed, sighing, reaffirming her hatred of water. By the time she reached where Judas had been, he swam in front of her, a side stroke variant. With her lips pressing into a thin line, she started to swim. Judas reached the opposite shore and waited for her to progress through the murky waters. She exited, breathing hard, her boots sloshing on the soft bank. Her robes clung to her; sludge marred her hands and neck, knowing it permeated through her clothing.
Seeing her safely on land, Judas turned and plunged through thick foliage, missing holes of knee-deep water. Rolling her eyes, Julie traced his steps.
Without preamble, Judas spoke. “I cannot read your thoughts…not like before. Now and then, when you are truly concentrating, I get a vague impression, but to read you like a book?” He shook his head.
Shocked at his revelation, she investigated, “Why?”
“I don’t know, not for sure. Something happened to you in the Corridor.”
Yeah, no shit.
“Perhaps Mr. Pleasure’s company did more than we both originally thought.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure, not yet. Give me time.”
She ground her teeth, chafed by the lack of answers.
“When were you going to tell me you could discern my inner musings?”
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, looking back at her. “That your contemplations screamed at me? There is no simple way to broach the topic. Usually, with time and training, a person will learn to control what they circulate. Even people with training still let a few slip through the cracks. Often it is but a hum churning in their head, but you,” he shook his head, “nothing. Unless, if you focus, perhaps.”
“I had no idea.”
“Maybe you attained more control. Ordinarily, this is a technique of shielding is taught, but you are doing it instinctively. Your aura seems more powerful than before. It is a way I can measure your progress. When you first woke at my house, I could detect you if I concentrated, a sliver of a new moon, but now you are near waxing.” He shrugged. “Enough of that, let’s change the subject.”
The stench of rot clung to the insides of her nostrils, and she missed a step, plunging her boot in knee-deep water. She cursed silently, but in her riled state, she shot the question. “Why?”
He stopped, his arm extended, holding half-rotted branches. Julie closed the gap between them. “Why what?”
“Why do you want to change the subject? Why?” A sharp silence settled between them. Julie, acutely aware of the beads of sweat rolling down the side of her face, held his gaze, challenging him.
“Because the line of conversation can be dangerous,” he finally said, his voice embracing an edge of his own.
“Dangerous?” she scoffed. “Like the swamp? The Corridor? Mr. Pleasure? That kind of dangerous? You are overcautious. Give me a straight answer!”
Judas let the branch go and faced her. His azure eyes penetrated her. “You are angry, so I will not hold your words against you. It is dangerous because any continuance down that line of conversation would turn to praise. I am exceedingly proud of the progress you’ve made but as important as it is for you to know how well you are doing, you need to be mindful that it doesn’t go to your head. If it does, you will become sloppy and tempted to more enticing paths, like Xilor. You must earn my praise, it isn’t freely given nor given lightly. Is your curiosity satisfied?”
She nodded, speechless at his tone and rebuke. Judas turned, continuing down an invisible path through treacherous growth.
“Here we go!” the warlock exclaimed a few moments later. “Solid ground.” Julie entered the clearing behind him, thankful for the hard earth. Their way was unhindered by muck, water, twisted roots, or branches for a few yards. Dismay settled over her as she peered through the fog, noting where their unhampered walk would end.
The marshy bank gurgled at each side of them; the churning water sloshed eerily in the swamp. For the first time, Julie observed the quiet, the stillness, expecting more. A chill raced down her spine. The only sounds she heard came from them, and her laborious breath thundered in her ears. With her wet clothes, aching muscles, and the humidity, her energy waned. She turned to espy the opposite shore from which they came; she could make out the faint line of the cliffs. It seemed much further. Judas’ receding footsteps faded, continuing without relent.
“We should have teleported past the water.”
“Magic is to serve your needs, not your wants. Don’t make a crutch out of a gift.”
Julie hurried to catch up, not wanting to be left far behind.
“I’ve been wondering. You haven’t once spoken about your family or children.” It was a loaded statement, one she yearned to unearth, but since Mr. Pleasure, she cautioned such thinking. Curiosity slithered past prudence, hoping to delve deeper into the mystery of the warlock.
The question made Judas stop short; he turned, a hoary weariness in his eyes. “What makes you wonder about that?”
“You never spoke about it, and I wondered …” she stammered, shaken by the haunted look filling his eyes. “I never saw anyone at your manor besides Staell. The only other people I have met was the boy, Todd, and Madam Meristal.”
He nodded and swallowed before turning abruptly and walking away, but this time, the pace much slower, a pace suited for a man of his age. Julie, unsure whether to pursue the conversation or to let it die, settled on the latter when he spoke up. “Yes, I have family and a child. Both are tragic stories,” he said, voice sullen. Though Julie could not glimpse his face, she heard his pain and withheld tears. “Which would you like first?”
“Your child–will I ever get to meet this person?” Julie inquired, hopeful.
“No, I’m afraid not. After the birth of my daughter, they placed her in protection imm
ediately. Her birth came in the wake of the healing process of the Wizard’s War. The last remaining minions of Xilor killed her and her guardians.”
“Why?” Julie asked, horrified.
“I killed their leader, and to them, it was only fair to kill what was precious to me. Revenge could only serve in killing me, but killing my child would crush me; so in a sense, their victory would be much sweeter.”
Silence suffocated the void between them. Julie wanted to speak but couldn’t. Where would she begin? Sorry didn’t quite measure up.
What good would it do him, after all this time?
“It was a little over two Ages ago,” he said. “I met my sweet little girl only once. After what happened, I wish…. No parent should have to mourn their child.” He cast a glance back at her. “You’re slightly older, but she would be about your age.”
“Who were the guardians?”
“Staell arranged the keeping of my child.”
“You’re still friends?” Julie interjected with disbelief.
“Of course, it took a while to get over my loss–I don’t think you ever get over it, but it gets easier to carry the burden–and I held him responsible for a time. In the end, I came to my senses and realized how could it have been his fault?”
Julie suppressed the urge to speak, letting him be. She mentally kicked herself and divined her special ability was opening old wounds. A respectful span stretched between them.
“I also had a sibling,” Judas spoke once again. “A twin brother older by a few moments. Our father died before we grew late into our adulthood. During the middle of the war, Xilor took Josiah’s life. Our mother died after her sons set off on different paths, but neither parent lived to witness his death or my exile.”
Julie couldn’t help but speak. “I am sorry, Master Judas. I had no idea. If I had known …”
“You would’ve held your tongue?” he finished for her. “Yes, but you didn’t, and you would have found out sooner or later. Better to hear it from the best person who can tell you than through hearsay.
