by R. T. Kaelin
“No, I have not.”
Zecus placed his boot on his father’s horse and shoved it away, trying to create enough room to dismount.
“Move!”
Joshmuel complied, yet still asked, “What is wrong?”
Zecus did not waste time explaining. He leapt off Simiah in a rush and began to jog to where Kenders stood.
“Stop! Please!”
He had taken but a half-dozen steps when the sound of fabric being ripped in two filled the forest, shredding the night’s solitude. Zecus skidded to a stop, gaping at the sight before him. A forty-foot tall black slit had appeared before Kenders, stretching from the ground into the oak branches. On either side of the tear in reality, the forest rippled as though a painting on a slashed canvas.
Movement pulled his attention from the port and back to Kenders as she collapsed to the ground, limp.
“Kenders!”
He sprinted to her side and dropped to his knees. Rocks and stones dug into his shins. She lay on her side, her cord-bound hair draped over her cheek. He rolled her onto her back gently, placed his hand to her chest, and said silent prayer to Khanos, the God of Life.
“Please, please, please…”
Upon feeling the slow thudding of a heartbeat, he closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. Hearing hurried footsteps, he looked up to find his father and Boah running toward him.
Joshmuel called, “Is she alright?”
Nodding, Zecus said, “She’s alive.”
When they reached where Kenders lay, Joshmuel dropped to his knees and checked for himself, also placing his hand over her heart. Boah stood nearby, alternating between staring at Kenders and the towering port silently looming over them.
Peering back down the dirt road, Zecus observed Tobias still sitting in his saddle, ignoring them entirely. His gaze was locked on the port, an expression of open wonderment on his face.
A hot rage bubbled inside Zecus. Pushing himself from the ground, he shouted, “How could you let her do that?!”
Tobias shifted his gaze to Zecus, then to Kenders. He kicked his horse’s sides, snapped the reins, and began to ride forward.
From the ground, his father looked up, his eyes filled with concern.
“I do not understand. What happened to her?”
Zecus stared at his father and growled, “This is what happens to her when she does not know what she is doing.”
“Seems like she knows what she’s doing,” muttered Boah, his eyes fixed on the port.
Frustrated, Zecus said, “There is more to it than that.”
Neither of them knew the danger in which she had just placed herself.
He wheeled to face Tobias again, finding the tomble only a few paces away. Forgetting to show any sort of respect for the White Lion, Zecus yelled, “You knew she was going to do this, didn’t you?!”
“I did,” replied Tobias nonchalantly, his gaze back on the towering blackness.
“And you let her?!”
Tobias dropped his stare to Zecus and nodded.
“Obviously.”
“You heard Broedi! He—”
“Is overcautious at times,” interjected Tobias firmly. His gaze shifted to Kenders. “Knowing what her mother was capable of doing, I believed she could handle this.”
Zecus’ eyes went wide.
“You believed? You risked her life on a belief?!”
Shaking his head, Tobias said, “No. I discussed her talent—and limits—at length with Khin. He agreed that we let her try.”
Zecus was about to shout again when Tobias’ words registered.
“Hold a moment. Her teacher knew she was going to do this?”
A wispy voice wafted from the tree trunks.
“Not precisely, no.”
Startled, Zecus spun around, his hand flying to his sword hilt, and peered into the jagged shadows. A few dozen paces away, a thin, hooded figure stepped into a pool of moonlight.
“You need not draw your blade.”
The figure reached up and drew back the hood, revealing Khin’s skeletal, drawn face. Zecus, his father, and Boah stared in quiet surprise as the aicenai approached and stopped beside Kenders. Bending down, he extended a bony hand, placed two fingers on the side of her neck, and—after a moment or two—removed them.
“She will be fine once she wakes.”
Standing tall, he surveyed their group. After a few short moments, Khin said, “There is no need to worry. I have no intention of stopping you.”
Quiet surprise registered on Joshmuel’s face.
“You do not?”
“None whatsoever. I hope your journey is a successful one.”
After the Borderlanders exchanged a series of quick glances, Joshmuel looked back to Khin.
“Are you here to take her back to the enclave?”
“No,” replied the aicenai. “She will be traveling with you as she planned.”
Surprised, Zecus said, “You’re letting her go?” Like his father, he had assumed—and hoped—Khin was here to stop Kenders. “Why?”
Khin stared at Zecus, his icy blue eyes lit bright by the rays of moonlight.
“You can tell a child not to touch a candle’s flame a hundred times and, still, they will poke at it. One burnt finger, and they stop.”
Baffled, Zecus said, “Pardon?”
“Decisions have consequences,” murmured Khin, dropping his gaze to Kenders. “Yet she acts as if they do not. She must learn caution. I could plead, reason, or argue with her for turns upon turns, or I can hope a better teacher than I can convey the lesson.”
“Who is that?” asked Joshmuel.
“Not who,” murmured Khin. “What.”
“Then what?” prompted Boah.
Khin lifted his gaze and spoke a single word.
“Fate.”
Before anyone could press him further, Khin shifted his gaze to Boah and asked, “Would you retrieve my horse for me?” He stretched out a hand and pointed into the forest. “She is tied over there.”
Surprised yet again, Zecus stared at the aicenai.
“You are coming as well?”
“I am.”
As he rose from the ground, Joshmuel asked, “If you wish for fate to teach her about consequences and caution, should you not let her go on her own?”
“Yes,” said Khin. “But she needs to learn about other things as well. We do not have time to wait for fate to finish its task. Speaking of time—” he eyed the port “—we should not waste any more of it. I do not know how long this will hold.” He tilted his head back to stare at its full forty feet. “Truly, I am surprised it did not close when she fainted.”
“I’m not,” muttered Tobias. “The pattern she used was similar to the Weave I use for a port, but…different somehow.” He sighed and gave a quick shake of his head. “Whatever the reason it’s still here, Khin is right. We should not tarry. It could close at any moment. Get his horse and let’s go.”
Boah glanced at Zecus and Joshmuel, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I am not one to argue with mages.” Turning, he tromped into the dark forest, on his way to find Khin’s horse.
Tobias glanced at Zecus and Joshmuel.
“You, too. Get your horses. Quickly.”
Zecus gave Kenders one last look-over, and then hurried with his father back to where the four horses stood, munching on patches of grassy weeds not yet taken by Winter’s bite. As they grabbed the reins to the horses and began to walk back, Zecus spotted Boah leading a black horse from the trees.
Once everyone gathered, Zecus climbed into Simiah’s saddle, after which Boah and his father helped lift an unconscious Kenders to sit in front of him. As he wrapped an arm around her, he stared at the tall void and asked, “Where does it lead?”
Eyeing the port, Tobias answered, “She told me she was trying for a place along the Erona River. The farmhouse of the two sisters with black hair?”
“Sabine and Helene?”
Tobias nodded.
�
�Yes, It’s as close to Demetus as she’s been.”
Zecus stared at the tomble.
“You have been further.”
“I have,” acknowledged Tobias. “But it’s been ages and I doubt I could picture the destination as is necessary. Short of taking you all to Gobas—inadvisable at the moment, I think—we should take her port.”
Zecus protested, “But you ported to the Seat of Nelnora. You remembered that.”
Tobias turned his steady gaze to Zecus.
“The city of a God is not easily forgotten. Now, stop asking questions, take the port you have, and be happy she saved you two turns of travel.”
Zecus frowned yet kept his concerns to himself.
Nodding, Tobias said, “Good. Now, as I am the only one who can port back should the other side of this thing be atop a mountain in Quan, I’ll go first. Once I’m through, count to ten. If I am not back by then, come through.”
Without waiting for any sort of acknowledgement, he urged his horse forward and through the blackness. The moment the horse’s rear disappeared, Zecus began to count silently. He had only reached seven when Boah announced, “Ten. Let’s go,” and kicked the sides of Hal. Leading Kenders’ mount along behind him, Boah moved through the port.
Joshmuel shook his head and sighed.
“Ever the cautious one.”
Smiling, Zecus watched his father follow Boah into the port. As Joshmuel disappeared into blackness, Zecus turned to Khin.
In a soft, airy voice, the aicenai said, “I had yet to reach four.” He, too, nudged his horse forward and through the rift in the world, leaving Zecus alone with Kenders in the dark forest.
Zecus hesitated a moment before kicking Simiah’s sides and moving forward, into the inky black void. As they crossed the threshold, he instinctively shut his eyes. One moment, he was in the cold and peaceful forest of Storm Island, the next, the thick odor of fresh grass filled his nose, a tepid breeze blew against his face, and dozens of terror-stricken screams assaulted his ears, echoing through the night.
His eyes shot open. He quickly scanned the area while trying to reach for his sword but forgot he was holding onto an unconscious Kenders.
Simiah had emerged atop the crest of a grassy hill. Below him were the remains of a ruined, three-walled cottage. Crop fields flanked the home and a handful of campfires burned in front. Moonlight from a clear, star-littered sky bathed the prairie.
A pair of horses with empty saddles was galloping across the hill, their sharp whinnies joining the screams of men. As Zecus whipped his head around to search for the missing riders, his eyes went wide as his gaze fell upon two enormous creatures marching about the grassy hillside. Shaped like men, the beasts appeared to be made of clumped stone and grassy earth.
The monsters lumbered after a handful of unfamiliar men sprinting toward a wooden cart by the house. Almost a dozen horses were tied to the wagon, tossing their heads, their eyes rolled back in fear. Some men were attempting to mount the spooked horses, while others were fleeing on foot, racing through the grass. One of the mammoth stone creatures reached the cart, bent down, and smacked two of the men with the back of its arm. Both men flew backwards a couple dozen feet, tumbling through the prairie grass like lumps of meat.
Panicked, Zecus looked around frantically for the rest of his companions. Khin was on his horse, two dozen paces to Zecus’ right, staring intently at the stone creatures. Spotting movement down the slope, Zecus turned his head to find Boah squatting in the tall grass, crouched between two dark humps on the ground. Based on size alone, one of the forms in the grass was undoubtedly Tobias. Zecus quickly reasoned that the other was his father. Neither was moving.
His heart in his throat, Zecus kicked Simiah’s side, urging the horse forward. As he neared the trio, Boah glanced up, his face a mask of shocked sorrow. Zecus’ gaze locked on his father. Joshmuel’s neck was bent at a very odd angle.
“Oh, Gods…no, no, no…”
Wanting off his horse now, Zecus nearly shoved Kenders to the ground.
“Blast it, Boah! Help me!”
As Boah leapt up and hurried over, Zecus could not take his eyes from his father’s head, twisted and fixed in an impossible, perverse position. His stomach clenched, bile rose up, coating the back of this throat.
Boah slid Kenders from the saddle and gently laid her in the grass. Staring back up to Zecus, he said, “I am so sorry.”
Free to dismount now, Zecus remained motionless in his saddle, staring blankly at his father. There was no need to rush. Without doubt, Joshmuel Alsher was dead.
After a few tortured moments, he slid off his horse and collapsed to his knees beside his father’s body. The screams of the men running away echoed through the night.
“I…”
He trailed off, unsure why he had even opened his mouth in the first place. There was nothing to say now. There was nothing to do now. His father was dead and nothing could change that.
“Hold a moment.”
He was in the company of mages.
Zecus lifted his head and shouted, “Khin!”
The aicenai still sat upon his horse, watching the stone creatures chase after the men. At Zecus’ shout, his head swiveled to stare at the group. After taking one last look at the fleeing men, he directed his horse to where the group waited. As he approached, his eyes studied each of them, shifting from Tobias to Joshmuel before finally resting on Zecus.
“I am sorry,” said Khin softly. “There is nothing I can do for him.”
Zecus’ eyes flicked to where Boah had laid Kenders.
“But I once saw her—”
Khin interrupted gently, “I am unable to touch Strands of Life. Even if I could, I would not be able to do what you are thinking. No mage could.”
The aicenai dismounted his horse and moved to kneel beside Tobias, laying two fingers against the White Lion’s neck.
“He is alive. In the midst of a vision, I believe.”
“Who cares about him?” shouted Zecus. “Please? Is there nothing that can be done?”
Nodding at Kenders, Khin said, “Not even she could have reversed his fate. Once the soul leaves the body, it belongs to Maeana. Nothing but the most twisted perversion of the Strands can change that.” The aicenai stared at Joshmuel. “I am sorry for his passing.”
Dropping his head into his hands, Zecus remained motionless, trying to accept the unthinkable and muttered, “What happened?” When neither Boah nor Khin responded, he lifted his head and shouted, “What happened?!”
Boah glanced at Khin before he began to answer, his words halting and unsure.
“When I…when I came through the blackness, the first thing I noticed were the campfires. The great lion’s horse was standing on the hillside, his saddle empty. When Joshmuel came through, he pointed here immediately.”
He glanced at where Tobias lay.
“We made it here and were about to dismount when a shout rang out. Men started jumping up from the grass, swords drawn. Our…our horses spooked. I managed to control mine, but Joshmuel’s tossed him.” He stared at the body on the ground, his face blank. “I saw him falling backwards and…” Trailing off, he lifted his gaze and turned it westward, after the fleeing men and the two creatures lumbering after them. “Those…things rose from the ground. And then there was screaming.”
“As the men’s intentions seemed clear,” said Khin “I set Stone fibríaals after them. The brigands’ bravery ran before they did.” Shifting his gaze back to Zecus, he added, “Then you arrived.”
Zecus stared back down at his broken father, wondering what he was going to tell his family—if he ever found them.
“This is not your burden to carry,” said Khin in his wispy voice. “Fate is no one’s fault.”
Surprised and irritated, Zecus peered at the aicenai.
“Pardon?”
Moonlight glinted in Khin’s eyes as he nodded at Joshmuel’s body.
“I said this is not your burden—”
/> “I heard you the first time!” growled Zecus. Glaring at Khin, he pushed himself up from the ground. “This isn’t fate’s fault, Khin!” Pointing at his father, he exclaimed, “This is my fault! Mine! He’s dead because of me! Had I never left Demetus, I would have never met the Progeny or the Shadow Manes, and today would have never happened!”
Khin stepped forward.
“You believe that one decision alone is responsible for his death?”
“Yes! I do!”
“And what would have happened had I chosen to go first through the port?” queried Khin. “I could have scared away the bandits first, no? Perhaps his death is my fault?”
Zecus shook his head.
“That is different.”
“Is it?” asked Khin. He shifted his gaze to Boah. “Perhaps it is his fault.”
Boah rose from the ground, instantly tense. His eyes hot, he said, “What are you saying?”
Khin did not flinch from Boah’s glare.
“Who chose the horses tonight?”
It was as if Khin’s question was a bucket of water tossed on a campfire. The heat in Boah’s eyes vanished in an instant.
“I did.”
Shifting his gaze back to Zecus, Khin said, “So his choice put your father on that horse. Do you blame him?”
Zecus shook his head and said, “No, of course—”
“What of the White Lion? Is this his fault?
Zecus stared at the tomble lying in the grass, his brow furrowed.
“I don’t…I don’t think so.”
“No?” asked Khin. “Had he not had a vision, he would have been able to stop the bandits. Or what about the bandits themselves? Why are you not blaming them? Surely more fault lies with them than yourself, does it not?”
Zecus did not know what to say. Khin’s questions were confusing him.
“What about her?” asked Khin, pointing a bony finger at Kenders. “If you wish to blame someone for what Greya had given you, why not her? She chose to come here tonight. Blame her.”
Zecus turned his gaze to Kenders and found himself actually considering the question. Khin had a point. After a few moments, however, he shook his head.
“No. She was trying to help. She did not mean for this to happen.”
“Did you?” asked Khin. “Did any of us?”
