His Ancient Heart

by M. R. Forbes

  He might have thought he was, if not for what he had seen in the place called the Dark, in the depths of the reactor. Silas and his brothers had won the war against the Shifters. They had defeated the invading armies and saved all of them from extinction. The scientist, Jeremiah, had used their victory to rise to power, to seize control and slaughter all of those who knew the truth. To institute his world order, one that saw the past buried. How much ircidium had he mined on the backs of the commoners he enslaved? How many Cursed had been needlessly killed, instead of cured?

  It seemed to Wilem that he was afraid to allow the magic to gain purchase in this world.

  Why?

  He sat and stared at the sky, looking in the direction of Amman for answers.

  He heard the snap of a branch and the scuffling of boots.

  Wilem felt his heart start racing, and he jumped to his feet. He fought to calm himself, to use what he had been taught and stay in control. He didn't dare use his lessons to draw on his magic, not when he couldn't know if there were Mediators nearby who would sense the power.

  He stood still and listened. Another snap, and then a voice.

  "Something big came this way. Look at how the grass is sunken here."

  They were close. Too close.

  "Could've been anything made that track," a second voice said. "Wild boars can get awful big and fat."

  Wilem turned back to the cave and pushed aside the roots, slipping into the small space and getting coated in a layer of dirt for his effort.

  "Did you find something?" a third voice asked. It sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place it.

  Wilem glanced over at Eryn, finding her still motionless on the makeshift bed. He stared at her, worried until he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest. He took three steps in and grabbed the dagger from the table, and then returned to the hole. He had never been much of a warrior, but if anyone tried to come in, he would make sure they didn't succeed.

  "Looks like it came through here," the first person said. Wilem could tell that his voice was getting louder as he said it. He was headed right for them.

  He held his breath, silent and still, his hand tight and sweaty on the hilt of the blade. His heart was racing, and his body was cold. Silas had barely been gone for a day and already they were going to be discovered?

  He could hear their feet on the earth outside, vibrating through the ground and into the hole. Three pairs of feet. They stomped into the area and came to a stop.

  "It stopped here for a while, and then headed off that way," the second voice said.

  "How long did it stop for?" the third voice asked.

  They were right outside the entrance. Wilem felt himself begin to shiver as he realized he knew the speaker. Master Canlin, one of his teachers from Edgewater. What was he doing here? He had thought him retired from the field.

  "Aren't any way to tell, sir," the first voice said. "Grass is all matted down here, so maybe it comes an' goes, or maybe other things like to rest here. Not surprising, being so close to the river and all."

  A soft moan sounded behind him.

  Wilem spun around, seeing that Eryn's eyes were open, and she was trying to push herself upright.

  "Eryn, no," Wilem whispered, placing the dagger quietly on the table and rushing over to her side. "Shhhh. It's okay, I'm here."

  "Wizard," Eryn hissed. Her eyes found him. Yellow eyes pooled with darkness. There was no recognition in them.

  "It's me, Wilem. Eryn, relax."

  Her forehead creased. "Wilem?"

  "Yes. Eryn, please, lie down."

  "What's happening?"

  "There are people outside. Shhh. We must be quiet."

  He watched her shiver. She whined and clenched her hands into fists.

  "Wizard," she said again. "Hungry. It hurts."

  He noticed it now. A sense of power. Mediator Canlin was using his magic for something. To find them?

  "It hurts," Eryn repeated, a little louder. "Hungry."

  "I know. I'm sorry. Please my love, lie down." He put his hand to her forehead and tried to ease her back down.

  "Scared," she said, red tears pooling in her eyes. "Help me."

  Wilem felt his heart breaking, his chest pounding. "I'm trying. Please, lie down and be quiet, or we're going to be caught."

  He pushed against her, trying to lay her down. She had been out this entire time, and only the nearness of the Mediator had woken her. He glanced over at the dagger. Had she been woken, or had something else? Was it already too late?

  "Hurtsssss," she moaned.

  "I'm sorry."

  Without warning, her hand came up, striking him in the cheek. Sharp nails dug into his flesh, ripping it away at the same time he flopped backwards onto the floor.

  "Hungry."

  Wilem lay on his stomach. He could feel her moving, shifting, trying to get up.

  "Did you hear something?" The first voice said.

  "Just a squirrel or some such." the second replied.

  "Hungry," Eryn repeated above him.

  He could feel the blood running from the cuts she had made in his cheek. He had to get up.

  Wilem pushed himself to his feet and leaned forward, reaching for the dagger. Eryn's hand grabbed him from behind, a scaly gray hand that found its way around his neck. It squeezed, stealing his ability to breathe, even as he struggled to turn around.

  "Eryn, please," he said, his voice strained. "I love you."

  The hand loosened. "Wilem?" she asked again.

  He took in a huge gulp of air. "Yes. I love you. Please listen to me."

  "Hurtsssss."

  He looked at the dagger in his hand. If it weren't too late, it would be soon. Silas probably hadn't even reached Varrow City yet.

  They were out of time.

  "I'm sorry," Wilem said again. Eryn's hand was still on his neck, but it was limp, unsure. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He knew what he had to do. What was expected. Silas had warned him.

  "Hungryyyyyyyyyyyy," Eryn cried, the saddest, most painful cry he had every heard.

  He would be doing right by her, to put her to death.

  He twisted in her grip, using his free hand to grab her arm, bringing the knife around towards her chest.

  His eyes landed on hers. He couldn't help but be frightened by their color, their shape. He couldn't help but give pause at their expression.

  She was as scared as he was.

  He stopped the blade only inches from her chest, dropping it to the ground and taking Eryn in his arms. He put his hand over her mouth and drove her back, shoving her down onto the mat, laying on top of her and keeping her pinned. Red tears ran from her eyes, down her cheeks to the ground below. Clear tears ran from his, dripping and landing on her forehead.

  "Let's keep looking," the Mediator said. His power vanished from Wilem's senses.

  Eryn fell limp beneath him.

  He lay there while the beat of his heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm, keeping his face close to Eryn's so he could feel the warmth of her breath on his ear. He waited quite a while to be sure they wouldn't return, and then he shifted to kneel over her. He stroked her forehead while he cried.

  Did I just save your life, or forfeit my own?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Silas

  "Patmos."

  Silas rapped on the rear door of the inn. He stood with his body pressed against it, his eyes sweeping back and forth in case he needed to hide again. Getting from Davin's mansion near the edge of the city to Waverly's had taken much too long. Every street was heavy with soldiers, the Heart even more so, and he had been forced to skirt side to side, shadow to shadow to avoid being stopped and questioned.

  The door opened a crack.

  "Who's there?" A small voice asked.

  "Patina," Silas said. He knelt down to get at eye level with the girl. "It's me. Is your father here?"

  He could see her eyes looking out at him, large and frightened.

  "Go away,
" she said. "Please."

  She started to close the door.

  "Patina, wait." Silas stuck his foot in before it could close. "Where is your father?"

  "Patina, who's there?"

  The proprietor's wife pulled the door open. She stood over Silas in a blue dress and a dirty apron, a butcher's knife in hand.

  "Silas?"

  He straightened up. "Is Patmos here?"

  Her face turned dour, her eyes dropping to her feet. "He's gone. Taken. The Overlord connected him to Davin, and when they learned Davin was helping you... You freed all the poor souls at the ore mine. They've been rounding up new ones to refill it. Patmos is one of them."

  Murderer.

  Silas forced the thoughts away. "Urla, I'm so very sorry."

  She looked up at him, her eyes fierce and resolute. "No. None of that. Every day we kept you here we were taking a risk. He isn't dead." She smiled. "And neither are you." She looked behind her, taking Patina's hand in hers. "The common room is crawling with soldiers and spies. They're expecting you might come back here. You need to go, and fast. Tell me what you came here for."

  "A cloak, or a table cloth. I need to disguise someone who is rather large."

  "That's all?"

  Silas nodded. He would have asked for more, before. They had already done enough. "Tell me, are the mines operational again already? It wouldn't seem they could restore them so soon."

  "No, not yet. Everyone who's been arrested is being kept in a small fortified garrison outside the walls." She laughed. "They're defending it like they've got a larder of coin at the center."

  "Expecting me to try to free them again? Or daring me to?"

  Urla stifled another laugh. "A bit of both I would expect. Let's not dally with words. Wait out by the stable and I'll find something suitable for you."

  She closed the door before he could say anything else, so he retreated to the stables, hiding himself in with one of the horses. He was crouched there only a few minutes when a soldier made his way inside on foot, scanning the nooks and crannies as he walked through.

  Silas watched him from he shadows, crouched low to stay behind the horse, his feet spread to either side of a pile of manure. The stable was dimly lit by lanterns hanging on pegs along the center, and the light allowed him to get a good look at the soldier. Young, with a strong build, olive skin, and reddish-brown hair. He paused at the front of Silas' hiding spot, pulling a thin round of paper from his pocket and sticking the end into the lantern. Sacha. The smokeable plant was rare this far north. It would have cost the man good coin to get it.

  It was also illegal. Even more so among his soldiers.

  Silas watched while the soldier took a couple of puffs and leaned back against the door. He didn't know Silas was there, and he had left himself completely exposed. All it would take for Silas to kill the man would be to sneak to the front of the stable and choke him.

  He moved forward, silent and steady, shifting around the horse. The steed didn't seem to care about either of them, content to keep its head down, as though it didn't want to bear witness.

  Silas positioned himself right behind the soldier. He took a breath in, tasting the smoke of the Sacha on his lips and tongue, sweet and heavy.

  "He would have you put to the mines, or hung straight up for even possessing a roll of sacha," Silas whispered into the soldier's ear.

  The man didn't react with surprise. Instead, he reached back and made a grab for Silas, trying to grapple with him over the half-door that separated them. Silas caught his arm and shifted, pinning it and keeping the soldier's back to him, his arm pressed tight against it. One quick push, and it would break.

  "Shhhh," Silas said.

  "It's you, isn't it. Silas Morningstar," the soldier replied. He wasn't frightened. He wasn't nervous. He started laughing.

  "What amuses you?" Silas asked.

  "The whole of the Empire is looking for you, and you've been hiding out in a pile of horse dung the entire time."

  "Not the entire time, my boy. I only just arrived."

  The soldier still had one hand free. The roll of sacha rested between two of his fingers. He held it up. "Smoke?"

  "What is your name?" Silas asked.

  "Fehri, my Lord Morningstar. Fehri Fehnrami, Captain of the Varrow City Guard, Third Company."

  Silas grinned behind him. "It hasn't been very long since I last heard that name. You saved Eryn from a beating barely a week ago."

  He could sense the man's surprise.

  "Please, my Lord," Fehri said, bringing the sacha to his lips so he could use the free hand to tap on Silas'. It hung from the corner of his mouth while he spoke. "You can release me. I may be a soldier in his army, but as you can see I have little regard for his commands. It is the Lord Amman that I follow."

  Silas paused for only a moment, and then dropped the arm. "Amman?"

  Fehri turned around, sucking in on the sacha and letting the smoke out through his nose. "He That Sits Above. It is His road that I walk, His voice that I bend to, foremost among all voices." He tugged at the corner of his black tunic. "This is a means to an end."

  "What end?"

  "Kindness. It is lost to this Empire, and I have made it my quest to return it. One beggar at a time, if need be. You've seen the way the soldiers lord over the commoners. You've seen how every word is cloaked in fear. The rebellion grows every day. It isn't only about the prisoners or the Cursed. It is about kindness, decency, justice. Amman teaches us these things, and yet we do not hear these teachings. We bow to Amman, at the same time we spit on his feet."

  "So you are for the rebellion?"

  "I am for kindness. There are many paths to achieving it, and I have tried to show it to my comrades, my brothers. I have tried to teach them a better way. Amman's way. I believed that was my command, my duty to Amman. It appears I misunderstood His Word."

  "How so?"

  Fehri smiled. "He has brought me to you. Or you to me. I didn't know I was assisting the Liar and his Wh... companion outside the apothecary. Amman did, and He set me to be there when you needed me. Now you are here, in this stable, and I am here in this stable. You didn't kill me when you could have. You didn't remain in hiding and wait for me to leave. Amman is telling us both that I am meant to help you again."

  "It is a coincidence," Silas said. If Amman were real, He would never have let him do the things he had done.

  "No, my Lord Morningstar. There are no coincidences. I have prayed to Amman for His guidance, and He has answered those prayers. It is as clear to me as a sunny day. You don't have to believe it. It is enough that I do."

  Fehri took two steps back from Silas and drew his sword. In one smooth motion, he dropped to his knee and held it out to him.

  "I offer you my sword, as Amman decrees. I am His man first, and yours second. I swear my fealty to you, Silas Morningstar."

  Silas looked down on the man. He had guessed by the sacha that this soldier might not be as loyal as his position might have suggested. He had gambled that he could use him to get back out of the Heart. He hadn't expected this. Could he be trusted? He had saved Eryn from a beating at the hands of one of his men. He had shown her uncommon and unexpected kindness.

  "No," Silas said.

  Fehri lifted his head, his expression confused. "No?"

  Silas brought his hand up to his head, running it along the rough cuts he had made. Silas Morningstar wasn't who he was. Silas Morningstar was a lie, a ruse that he had created to keep him alive but completely in the dark, ready to be sent back to Rossum and Genesia if the need ever arose.

  Genesia was destroyed. Rossum was dead.

  As of this moment, so is Silas Morningstar.

  "If you wish to swear fealty, swear it to Talon Rast. General Talon Rast."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Talon

  "Silas, I - oh."

  Urla made her way into the stable, holding a large parcel of cloth against her chest. She had turned the corner and seen the soldier first
, standing with his back to her in front of Talon. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes growing wide, her face fearful.

  "Urla," Talon said, stepping around the soldier. "Do not be alarmed. I have made a new acquaintance while you were gone."

  Fehri turned around, and Urla relaxed. "Captain Fehri. I didn't know it was you. Smoking in my barn again?"

  "My apologies."

  "I knew you liked the sacha. I never took you for a sympathizer."

  "I am not for or against the Empire, my Lady. I am merely a servant to our Lord Amman, and in His name to General Rast."

  "Well, then like it or not Captain, you are against the Empire, and for the people." Urla's eyes flicked over to Talon. "General Rast?"

  "It is time that I reclaim my legacy and atone for it."

  She held the parcel out to him. "A cloak from Moser Allan. He's a smith over on Caston Street. They call him 'the bear' on account of his size."

  "Did you tell him what it was for?"

  "I told him to hand it over and mind his business. He knows better than to ask questions."

  Talon took the package. "Thank you. I don't know how I will ever repay your generosity."

  She leaned forward and up, kissing him on the cheek. "Yes, you do."

  "Urla, please go," Talon said. "Take care of your daughter. If I can get Patmos back to you, I will."

  Urla nodded. "I know you will. Be safe. And when you return to wherever you have hidden Eryn, tell her that me and Patina miss her sorely."

  Talon couldn't help but think of Eryn, laying on the floor of the cave and suffering a fate worse than death. "I will," he said, trying to hold back his tears and anger.

  Urla turned and headed out the door.

  "We are clear on the plan?" Talon asked.

  "Yes. So long as you don't get caught returning to Davin's estate, I can get you and your companion inside the palace. You'll have to put a lot of faith in me."

  "I'll put as much in you as you have in Amman."

  Fehri nodded. "Then there is no cause to worry."

  "What about your men?"

  "My men are loyal to him before me. It is a shame, but we can't count on them. I will take care of it."