The Last Scion (The Guardians of Light Book 1)

by R. Michael Card

  Ahrn made sure he spoke in soft tones, light and easy. “Emberthorn is of spirit, and Aehryn-gifts of spirit are considered some of the most powerful, the most precious.”

  He received another sidelong look from Senia, but this one with a hint of curiosity. “Truly?”

  He nodded. It was the truth, he would not deceive her.

  She looked away suddenly, rolling her eyes and muttered, “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

  “My apologies then,” Ahrn said softly.

  “What? Oh, not you, I was talking to Emberthorn. He keeps trying to help, but our connection is so close he ends up throwing too much at me at once. It’s nice to talk normally… with you. Please, keep going.” Her voice was soft now. He could hear the sorrow edging through, her soul still tender as any open wound.

  “I will tell you what I know of magic, how’s that?” he said with a smile.

  She nodded for him to go on.

  “Imagine a star with eight points, four larger, longer points at the top, bottom, and to the sides, with lesser points on each diagonal. This is the cycle of energies and elements which make up the world. At the top is spirit and it is linked to the element of fire. Spirit is what connects all things together it is the energy of life. As I said, some consider it to be highest of the Prime Domains.”

  “What’s a domain?”

  “Just an area of magic, a specific type of power. Usually a wizard or a scion-artifact can use only one domain, one area of magic. There are some rare wizards who can use two domains. These are called Dual-Talents. Even rarer are those who can use three or all four of the Prime Domains, called Multitalents.”

  “Is that what the Blacklord is?”

  “Yes, a true and powerful multitalent.”

  She shuddered.

  He moved on. “Spirit is at the top and directly across from it, at the bottom, is the domain of body, which is linked to the element of earth. Each point on the star sits across from its opposite, that which is most in contrast to it. Where spirit is ethereal and energy, body is solid and material. Have you heard of the Daughters of Ehlani?”

  “The healers?”

  “Yes. Not all of them have magic, but some do. Such healers would be earth-talents, able to fix and heal a person’s body.” Senia nodded. He went on. “The two points on the sides are also opposites. On the left side is the domain of soul, linked to the element of water, and on the right side is the domain of mind, linked to the element of air and wind.”

  “Sorry, what was that? I’m getting a little confused.”

  Ahrn thought of how to explain this a little clearer. An idea came to him. “Think of a compass.”

  “A compass?”

  “Yes, where spirit is north, mind is east, body is south, and soul is west. Does that make sense?”

  She nodded. “I think so.”

  He continued, excited. “And each domain has a companion element, in the same order, they would be: fire, wind, earth, and water.

  She nodded. “Got it, but…”

  “But?”

  “I feel like I should know this, but what is the difference between spirit and soul?”

  Ahrn laughed lightly. “That’s a fair question. I guess I’m used to these terms, but for anyone else, it might be hard to see the difference.” He thought a moment before going on. “The easiest way to explain it is that spirit is the force which creates everything and connects all things to each other. It is larger than one person, it is the essence of all life. Soul is what feels, it is the seat of our emotions, the individual and unique core of our being. It is our heart. Does that make sense?”

  “So Spirit is everywhere and felt by all things, but soul is personal, what creates our emotions?”

  “Roughly, yes.”

  “I see.”

  “So, Spirit, Mind, Body, and Soul are the four Prime Domains. Then there are four Lesser Domains.”

  She gave a short laugh. “There’s more?”

  “Yes, do you want me to stop for now?”

  “No, it’s fine, go on.”

  “I’ll try to be as clear as I can. If you think of that compass again, between spirit and mind, so northeast, is the domain of destruction, linked to the sub-element of storm.”

  Senia nodded with a bit of a laugh. “Destruction and storm, good.” She was smiling now. She seemed to be taking this lesson as some sort of memory game, distracted from her worries for the moment. “Thank you for going through this slowly, Emberthorn tried to jam this all into my head earlier and it just seemed a jumble of meaningless stuff.”

  “We’ll see if you’re still willing to thank me when I’m done,” he said lightly, then continued taking his time. “Between mind and body, so southeast, is the domain of deception, which is linked to the sub-element of darkness or shadow.”

  “That one doesn’t sound so nice.”

  “Magic is what it is and it’s not always nice.”

  She took a moment then nodded, seeming to accept that explanation, so he went on. “Between body and soul, to the southwest, is the domain of creation, linked to the sub-element of growth and life. And finally between soul and spirit, so northwest, is the domain of truth and the sub-element of light.”

  She sighed. “That is a lot to take in.”

  “Luckily all you need to worry about is Spirit for now. Emberthorn’s spirit is very strong, and yours is as well if I had my guess.” He could sense… something from her, a pull to a place deep within him. Those with power over spirit had the ability to inspire others, rouse them to one purpose or another. She was still fresh in her powers, but already he felt drawn to her.

  “I can’t imagine what you are going through,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, giving a soft squeeze. “But even I, with no magic to speak of, can sense the strength of your spirit Senia. You’re connected to all things, more-so than any other person. Your family will always be with you through that connection.”

  She was quite for a long time as they walked. His hand fell to his side again, hoping he had helped to ease her mood, at least a little.

  “I can sense them,” she said finally. “My family. Emberthorn has taught me how to find them, to feel them. You’re right, I’ll always have this connection.” Her voice was getting choked up by the time she finished, not with sorrow but a newfound hope.

  After another long moment, she said simply, “Thank you.” Her free hand — for her left still clung to Emberthorn, held in a reversed grip so the blade flashed in the sun behind her — sought his. Soft flesh of long fingers traced across his palm, curling around to hold his hand, as he too gripped hers. Warmth flooded through him, though the day was already hot. The pull he felt from her surged. Perhaps the contact of their skin had connected their spirits in some way he could not fathom. Looking to her, as she turned to him, he fell into the depths of her eyes, sparkling as the sun on water. While still entranced by her eyes he noticed her soft, pink lips part slightly.

  He began to lean in, bringing his lips to hers but stopped himself, barely into the movement.

  He had vows to uphold. Vows of purity and chastity he couldn’t ignore.

  He squeezed her hand, hoping to reassure her then drew back, smiling faintly, hoping to cover his weakness. This contact, and only this, would be what he was allowed. No matter how strongly her spirit called to his.

  CHAPTER 5

  Senia stood her ground.

  It was late in their second day out, and they had found a village in which they hoped to find some food or supplies. What they found instead was a local tyrant. Rather he’d found them.

  “I said, give me the sword, girly!” In his froth of irritation, spittle flew from the man’s lips as he spoke.

  This man needs to be taught a stern lesson, Emberthorn said evenly, belying the hum of energy and anticipation surging into Senia from the sword.

  The man before her was large, taller than her by a head, thick and meaty in limb and body. Small eyes in a round red fac
e flared with annoyance. His snarl revealed a patchwork of rotting teeth behind fleshy lips. He loomed over her, leaning in, massive arms out to the side, seeking to intimidate.

  It was very clear that this man lived to create fear — if the rest of the small village huddling behind him wasn’t enough evidence, his every twitch and pace exuded threat, violence, and raw physical power. He could deliver too, he wasn’t all bluster. He could move very quickly for one so large. Ahrn, groaning, flat on his back beside her could attest to that.

  Senia met the man’s gaze passively. “No.”

  He swung.

  She crouched, ducking under the blow, with a wide step back, strong and steady. Emberthorn flew out to the side, her right hand joining her left on the hilt in a reversed grip. The blade flashed as her hands flew to her right shoulder. With her wider stance and greater distance from the man, the blade skimmed over his flesh, drawing a fine bloody line from hip to opposite shoulder, shredding his shirt in the process.

  The man reared back with a feral scream. Chances are he didn’t know the touch of pain, only how to inflict it.

  She stood slowly from her wide low stance, keeping her distance.

  “That was a warning.”

  You don’t know how good that felt, Emberthorn sung with glee. It’s been ages since I’ve smote a tyrant, even if he is the tyrant of a tiny village.

  Senia smiled, feeling the sword’s euphoria. She had no idea what it felt like to smite a tyrant, or at least she hadn’t, until now. She had to admit, it felt good.

  The man planted a hot, furious gaze upon her.

  “No one strikes me!”

  A flash, across and down, faster than her eye could follow, though her hands knew exactly what they were doing.

  The man’s shirt fell away. A second thin, bloody line marked him, shoulder to hip, creating an ‘X’ across his torso.

  “Second warning. You don’t get a third.”

  Dazed, in pain, rage fading, the man’s brows lowered, his beady eyes shrinking in suspicion.

  “What are you?”

  “I am a Scion, Guardian of the weak.”

  Give him a Mark of Justice!

  A what?

  A Mark of… Oh, never mind I’ll do it.

  Her right hand, releasing the blade became suddenly, intensely hot. With incredible speed, she stepped in and placed her hand on the man’s chest. There was a searing and sizzling sound. The man cried out. She stepped back, hand cold.

  The man’s eyes flashed wide as a hand came up to the hand shaped burn, touching and flinching away.

  “What?”

  “That is a Mark of Justice.” Emberthorn was speaking through her, she listened, intrigued to learn of this new ability. “Leave this village and never return. If you do, the righteous fire of my wrath will consume you. If you threaten or willfully harm another, or break the Gods’ Law in any other way, for the rest of your days, Holy fire will take you. Do you understand?”

  The man, face slack, eyes frozen with terror, nodded, dumb.

  “Now go,” Senia said, back in control as Emberthorn retreated back to the blade.

  He bobbed his head again, cheeks flapping, then spun, sprinting from the village.

  Ahrn got to his feet carefully, still unsteady.

  “That was amazing.” He was shaking his head, trying to clear it. A dark spot forming on his chin, soon to be a bruise. “What exactly was that?”

  “If you heard what I said, then you know as much as I do.”

  “Emberthorn’s doing?”

  “Yes.”

  “Impressive.”

  The villagers drew closer, forming a circle around Senia and Ahrn, though maintaining a distance of a few paces, bowing and whispering thanks.

  One particularly brave woman stepped forward, small and round, wearing a tattered dress and thick apron.

  “Great Lady,” she said, voice reverent, bowing. “We have no common house here, but if you wish, you may stay in my house tonight, dine at my table. It would be an honor.”

  Senia looked to Ahrn, who shrugged. She gauged the placement of the sun and looked back to the woman.

  “Thank you for your offer, I’m humbled by it. However we have far to go, and there is still much time today for travel. If you have some food we might take with us, we would be grateful for it. Only if you have extra though.”

  The woman nodded. “With Osdak gone, the stores in his silos and barns will keep us well through to the next harvest. We can afford to give some. Come, this way.”

  A short while later they were on the road again, packs stuffed with dried meats and fruits and two fresh loaves of bread.

  Ahrn, every few hundred feet along, would take a heavy breath and let out a long sigh, shaking his head.

  After one too many of these, Senia put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “What is it?”

  He raised his brow, his eyes distant. “What?”

  “Something is bothering you.”

  His head tilted slightly. “Is this a new Scion power, reading minds?”

  She smiled. “I can see you’re distracted, no powers needed.”

  “Oh.” He looked away and drew in another long breath. This time he let it out in several short laughs, still shaking his head. “It’s just…” His eyes came to hers again, soft, brown, honest. He simply looked at her for some time before going on. “No one has beaten me, not like that, not that quickly. It’s been years since anyone has been able to lay me low with a single punch.”

  “Oh.” Now she understood. “I see.”

  His expression darkened. “Are you mocking me?”

  Her smile faded. “No. I have seen you fight when it matters, and there is nothing there to mock. You are a skilled warrior.”

  He turned away. “Then why couldn’t I handle one large man?” He muttered something after this, something about “Master… would be…”

  “Master who would be what?” she asked, continuing to walk.

  A sigh. “Master Elia would be disappointed.”

  “Who is Master Elia?”

  “The woman who taught me to fight.”

  “A woman, truly?” She tilted her head to see him better.

  A grimace. “Truly. When I was a boy, she was twice my size and terrified me. She had a certain scowl and with her iron gray hair seemed more some spirit of rock and fury. Then I grew up and stood over her by a full head and shoulders, still she scared the life out of me. She was a hard woman. Even when I was bigger than her, she crashed me to the ground more times than I care to recall. She is… was?” He looked away for a moment. “She is the best warrior I have ever known. She must have survived.”

  “Were there many woman monks?” Senia found a bubbling sense of curiosity within her. She wasn’t sure why this was so important to her at the moment, but she needed to know.

  He nodded. “Embreth accepts all, unlike some of the other orders.”

  “Oh.’’ Her stomach churned. She couldn’t understand her feelings, didn’t know why the thought of other women around Ahrn upset her, but it did.

  “You must remember,” he went on, “that Embreth is the God of Knowledge and Secrets. We were taught about the biology of animals and humans early on. We knew of all the differences between men and women to dispel any myths or silliness that might arise.” He gave her a coy half grin before he went on. “I know all about how your body works.”

  Heat rushed to her face, and to many other places she didn’t want to think about, but which apparently he knew quite well. That thought only caused more heat to flood her.

  His smile faded, and he looked away again. “That’s why the monks of Embreth are some of the best healers, next only to the Daughter of Ehlani.” As his gaze had moved away, so had it taken some of the intense warmth within her. She tried to calm her suddenly racing heart with the thought that if anything were to happen to her, he would be there to tend to her.

  But would you want him to tend to you, I wonder? Emberthorn cut into her t
houghts. I suppose it would depend on where the wound was, wouldn’t it?

  More heat flooded through her, trembling within her, twisting her stomach.

  Emberthorn sighed. Sometimes I forget how young you are, my dear. I am sorry for the jest.

  A sense of peace seeped into her hand holding the sword and slowly, as with one great peaceful exhalation, she calmed.

  In truth, she didn’t know much about this man, who she had been traveling with for nearly two days. Perhaps it was time to learn.

  “What was it like there?”

  “At the abbey?”

  She nodded.

  “Majestic.” His eyes were distant with memory, then he laughed. “And old. On the edge of a plateau with mountains like a blanket around us. It was on the southern fringe of the kingdom of Sandria, the Navrin Mountains, which marked the border, rising up south of us. There were two ridges stretching down out of the mountains, one to the east and one to the west. We were at the north end of the plateau, a river rushing by just outside the walls, becoming a beautiful waterfall where the highlands ended.

  “I can remember many a night, sitting outside the abbey, watching the spray of the water, hearing the crash far below, and thinking there was no more majestic sight in the world.” He turned toward her then, mouth open to say something, but then he blinked and shook his head, looking back down the road ahead.

  Then another short laugh. “Everything around us was majestic and striking, except the abbey. It was old, walls crumbled in places, patched with wood. It had once been the castle of some warlord, in ages gone by. We were few, we had no stonemasons among us, mostly farmers or miners from the few villages that clustered near the river where it continued in the valley below. We didn’t know how to keep up such things. It would have taken a lot of work, I think. By the time I arrived, it was probably already past saving. In the sixteen years I was there it just went from bad to worse, walls I’d stood on as a child, that had seemed sturdy, were long gone when we left.”

  “Did you like it there?” Senia asked, piecing together the images he provided, weaving a tapestry in her mind’s eye.