by Jeff Wilson
Edryd, tired of being spoken of as if he had died, had to remind himself that it would serve no useful purpose to become more upset. Logaeir was an unusual man. Venting frustration at him was beyond pointless, and Edryd’s attempt at a threat might as well have been an unconventional compliment for all of the discomfiture that it had provoked. Edryd suspected that Logaeir’s behavior was all for effect, and was neither genuine nor random. It would be a mistake to become distracted by it.
“You are worse than Seoras,” Edryd finally said.
“Worse than Seoras?” said Logaeir, protesting the comparison. “He all but put you in the ground. I haven’t done anything that harmed you nearly so much as that.”
“Perhaps, but Seoras, as dark as he might be, did have the decency to at least show some remorse.”
“Well, he has always been flawed in that way,” Logaeir commented.
Edryd hadn’t thought he could think less of the man, but Logaeir did not seem to mind playing an indifferent villain. “You act as though you are innocent of having done anything wrong,” he said, remonstrating against the other man for his refusal to accept any responsibility for what he had done.
“I never claimed such a thing,” Logaeir said. “And let’s be fair, we all thought you were going to die. If you had met that expectation, you wouldn’t be here to experience any discomfort over the uses to which I have purposed your name and reputation. None of this would even matter.”
It was an absurd but simple logic. Bait to draw Edryd into an even more meaningless argument. Edryd did, however, have something he needed to say.
“It may not matter to you, but there may soon be a war between the Sigil Corps and the King of Nar Edor. Whether or not it is the truth, whether or not I had died, news that the Blood Prince is now commanding an army of Ascomanni is sure to provoke a response that will accelerate the conflict.”
“That will have to be your problem,” Logaeir replied casually, but appearing a little uncomfortable for the first time. “If we succeed here, we can turn our attentions to Nar Edor,” he rationalized. “We can overthrow your King.”
“If I had wanted to fight the king, I would still be in Nar Edor!” Edryd shouted.
“If it helps at all, I am serious about putting you in charge. I have big plans for the Ascomanni. I intend to transform them into something more than a simple band of marauders and thieves, and that will only happen with your involvement.”
It didn’t help. It made things worse, and Edryd was now struggling to retain any semblance of composure. “And if as your leader I command you to disband?” Edryd asked pointedly, trying to expose the lie in Logaeir’s words.
“I would disregard the order,” Logaeir admitted. “The die is cast. It is too late to choose any other path. For better or worse, conflict is coming.”
Edryd was not sure what he had expected, but he would have preferred something more than a vague, yet dramatic pronouncement. There was, however, no way to undo what Logaeir had done. Logaeir’s actions had engendered in Edryd a deep resentment, but short of openly declaring his identity, there was very little Edryd could do about it.
“It seems I’ve done a great deal to advance your cause, though I didn’t intend to,” Edryd pointed out. “You could do me a service in return and find me a way off of this unpleasant little rock.”
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” Logaeir responded, rejecting the request.
“Why?” Edryd demanded. “If I remain here, you only risk having your lies exposed.”
“There are at least two reasons,” Logaeir replied. “Friends of yours appeared one week ago, looking for their captain.”
“What do you mean?” Edryd demanded.
“Soldiers of the Sigil Corps, Oren and Ruach they said their names were, sailed out here knowing they would be captured by Ascomanni. They have demanded to see you, and I imagine that they want to take you back.”
“I have no intention of returning to Nar Edor, if that is what you are worried about,” Edryd said, perturbed by what Logaeir had just told him. These two men were ranked officers in his command. He did consider them friends, and they undoubtedly would expect him to return.
“No, that isn’t it,” Logaeir corrected, “I told them that you needed their help in training the Ascomanni for battle, but I don’t imagine they will keep at it much longer if I don’t bring them to see you.”
“And what makes you think…” Edryd began to say before stopping himself. Logaeir had uses for him yet, and those uses included recruiting his friends into the Ascomanni. The inventive thief surely wouldn’t pause before leveraging the two officers in his machinations to obtain cooperation from Edryd either. Eithne had said it earlier: the man planned several steps ahead. Edryd was going to need to think this through carefully if he wanted to extricate himself from the trap in which he was held.
At that moment the door swung open. Irial stood as straight as she could and used every bit of her diminutive height to appear commanding as she demanded an explanation. “I could hear the two of you shouting from the road. Have you no common sense?”
“It was only Edryd who was yelling,” Logaeir disputed indignantly.
Irial rolled her eyes in response to the deliberately childish response. Edryd reddened a little, realizing he had in fact been the only one who had raised his voice.
“Why is it you went and detailed all of the many wrongs I committed while he was sick?” Logaeir demanded of Irial.
Irial cast a sidelong look back in the direction of the road. She knew better than to take Logaeir seriously, but she answered anyway. “I have not spoken to him about you,” she replied.
“I told him,” Eithne volunteered apologetically, coming into view behind Irial.
Logaeir smiled and said, “It’s a small thing. I’m sure you told him nothing he couldn’t have learned in less than five minutes from just about anyone in town.”
“That’s right,” Eithne agreed, brightening considerably, and showing relief.
“And how would you know that?” Logaeir challenged. “You aren’t allowed to go into town.”
“But you just said,” Eithne complained with frustration.
Irial interrupted her sister before she and Logaeir could devolve any further into one of his pointless arguments. “Ignore him, it is well past time you were asleep,” she said to Eithne, as she firmly ushered her off to bed. Upon returning she pulled Logaeir aside. “You need to leave, now, and do it discreetly,” she said in a hushed tone.
Logaeir raised an eyebrow.
“Seoras is anxious to see Edryd now that he is awake. He wanted to accompany me on my way back,” she explained. “I convinced him that it was too soon, but he was barely persuaded. I am not certain that he won’t change his mind and show up anyway.”
Logaeir tried to appear unaffected, but all of the color had gone from his face. “Best I was on my way,” he said. “Wouldn’t help things any for you if he found me here now, would it?”
Without a farewell, other than an abbreviated and barely courteous nod in Edryd’s general direction, Logaeir departed through the room from which he had first entered, closing the door behind him. Edryd could hear, but not see, Logaeir moving a floor panel in and out of place, and then everything was quiet.
Chapter 10
Into the Dark
Edryd arrived at his decision only after extended and unproductive struggles to ease himself to sleep. Though he had not come, as Irial had feared, images of Aed Seoras approaching the cottage, sitting in the open hall, or hovering over him as he lay in bed, assaulted Edryd’s imagination each time he closed his eyes. He was putting Irial and Eithne at risk by staying, and yet he couldn’t just leave either. If he could find a way off of this island, some way to leave safely, doing so now would have consequences, and he would be endangering Irial if he disappeared while under her care.
It was only after settling upon the necessary solution that Edryd relaxed enough to manage an uneasy peace during the
few hours that remained before morning. He decided not to tell Irial of his late night determination as they ate a morning meal of porridge. After she left, he waited an hour before he too, took to the road above the house. He was going to speak with Aed Seoras. He would accept the offer to live and train at the estate, receiving instruction in whatever it was Seoras felt he could teach. This, he reasoned, would jeopardize no one but himself, and it would restore some of the respect for himself that he had lost in the process of running from all of his problems.
The cottage soon vanished behind a low hill, and he was no longer feeling as certain about his choice. Each step grew heavier than the one that preceded it. He didn’t want to admit that this had more to do with his fear of Aed Seoras than it did with a reluctance to leave the cottage or the weakened condition into which he fallen. He was growing miserable the more he contemplated things. If he didn’t include the time for which he could not consciously account, he hadn’t been at Irial’s cottage for even two full days, but in that time he had felt something close to happy while living in her home. He was sorry to be leaving.
A lone bright spot lay amidst the jumble of torment. Apprenticing under Aed Seoras was going to make Logaeir very unhappy. Encouraged by this thought, and enjoying the crisp morning air, Edryd came near to smiling as he continued along the road. Eithne had come along, alternating frequently between forging on ahead with seemingly unbounded energy, and then pausing to explore one distraction or another so that Edryd would pass her on his way and would get well ahead.
Back at the cottage, when it had become clear that he intended to leave, Eithne made an effort at denying him permission. Once she understood that he meant to make a trip into town though, she unreluctantly relented, making a rather unconvincing display of exasperation at his stubborn nature. She would come as well just to be safe, she had said, but only to the edge of town. It was as welcome an excuse as she could have hoped for to defy the prohibition against approaching the borders of the town, about which she was more than curious. As they walked, she had been making a pretense at being angry that he was forcing her to break one of Irial’s rules, but Eithne couldn’t seem to remember she was mad unless she knew Edryd was paying attention.
He was cheered by her distracted company during those brief moments when Eithne either caught back up, or he found her waiting for him after he had fallen behind. It barely mattered that she was refusing to speak to him. Rounding a corner, Edryd discovered Eithne cooling her feet in a small stream of water that bounced over scattered stones as it carved its way down a long tapering slope. A view of the town opened up beneath them. The rows of large slate roofed buildings, built along narrow streets contoured in curved shapes that were made necessary by the rolling terrain, appeared small in the distance. Edryd had come this way before, but that had been at night. Now the entire town could be seen in clear detail. The estate, towards which he was now travelling, was set up well above most of the town, and was much closer to where he now stood than to the piers where all of the ships were moored.
“I think this is far enough, you had better go back now,” Edryd said.
Eithne looked up from where she was wading in the stream. “I’ll wait here until you’re done. We can go back together.”
His mood dampened as he struggled to explain that he wouldn’t be coming back. He would be trading her company for that of Aed Seoras. The built-up toll of fatigue from the distance he had travelled along the road hit him. Eithne had set upon the right idea. It would be much more pleasant to spend the afternoon here, wading in the cool water, exploring the stream for a while.
“I won’t be back, not for a few days at least,” he said. “Irial will explain it when you see her.” It was not altogether a lie, just largely one. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just told the truth, and he didn’t like the thought that he might be lying simply out of habit.
Eithne wrinkled her nose, shielding her eyes as she stared back at Edryd and into the sun. She accepted his explanation without an argument, which was unusual for her.
“When you get back, I will make you some chicken dumplings,” she promised.
Edryd’s mood, already low, sunk even further. Eithne’s expression of determination, voicing a desire for his approval, was painful for Edryd, and he keenly felt in that moment that he did not want to be a source of disappointment to her. If she would even be disappointed that is. Eithne had made a consistent point of being mainly displeased with him at all times. He couldn’t have a great distance to fall.
Too stubborn to change course, Edryd resolved to follow through with his plan. He parted ways with Eithne and left the road, heading across country in a direct route to the estate.
The first person he met was Giric Tolvanes. He was just inside the gate, coming out of the stables with a small crate that held an assortment of grain filled sacks.
Tolvanes stopped upon sighting him. “Master Edryd,” he managed after collecting himself from the surprise, “it is good to see you are well.”
“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” Edryd said.
“No need to apologize. No need at all. You’re looking….”
The pause made Edryd very aware of how thin he had become. Giric was probably thinking to himself that Edryd was still sick, and perhaps dangerous to those around him.
“You are looking well, Young Master,” Tolvanes said, finishing his thought.
“By well, I suppose that you mean pale and not long returned from the grave.”
“No, not that at all,” Giric replied. “You are a good deal thinner, but that seems to suit you if you don’t mind me saying so. You look more mobile if that makes any sense. Once you get yourself into a regimen, I think you are going to be faster and more agile than you were before.”
Edryd wasn’t enjoying these reassurances. It felt too much like Tolvanes was inspecting a horse and discussing its virtues. Except there were no horses on this property. Men, or more accurately, men with the potential for acts of guided violence, were the products that were developed here. It was no anomaly that Tolvanes should have such a practiced eye with which to evaluate the inventory.
“I was hoping to discuss something with Seoras,” Edryd said, cutting short the unsolicited appraisal of his health that Tolvanes seemed ready to expand upon.
“He’s in an outbuilding back behind the stables,” said Tolvanes, who had begun to put down the crate, intending to lead Edryd to Seoras. Edryd waved him off.
“I can find it,” Edryd said.
Looking uncertain, but not displeased, Tolvanes shifted the crate in his arms. “You will come and see me when you’re done?” he asked.
“We should have time to talk,” Edryd agreed.
Seoras was alone in the outbuilding. Eyes closed, with his face hardened in an image of deep concentration, Seoras sat with his legs folded on top of a collection stacked fieldstone, the relocated remnants of a wall that had been torn down somewhere on the property. Aed Seoras’s eyes remained closed, with his focus unbroken by the sounds Edryd made as he entered. At a point not far past the threshold of the building, Edryd crossed some unseen boundary. Edryd’s heart quickened and he felt fractionally lighter than he should have, even accounting for what he had lost during his illness. More than that, Edryd was undeniably aware of a subtle imbalance, and a sort of unnatural displacement in the area around Aed Seoras.
What Edryd hadn’t noticed, was a single stone, resting unaided in the air above the ground in the center of the room. Edryd saw this impossible object, only after hearing a loud penetrating crack that warned him of the danger, and then only for the briefest of moments. This threatening sound was produced in correlation with the appearance of a sudden fracture in the stone block, which preceded a subsequent explosion in which the stone disappeared, disintegrating into a cloud of dust and chalk. Edryd had managed to turn and shield his eyes in time, but the exposed side of his face stung where it had been impacted by granules of stone, and he choked and coughed on bits of
dust that had gotten inside his mouth. The odd sensation of displacement was gone, replaced for a moment by a rapidly diminishing tremor. Edryd perceived it as a tension breaking and then imperfectly seeking to return to a state of balance.
Before Edryd could react, before he could give a voice to the obvious questions racing through his head, Seoras spoke. “Did you feel it?” he asked as he brushed away a thin layer of chalk that had come to rest in his dark strands of hair.
“Feel? You must mean did I see! You… you were holding that stone up in the air, and then you shattered it into dust. What in the three realms did you do?”
“I’m not sure,” Seoras admitted. “Lifting an object is fairly simple, but crushing it with such force, it isn’t something I have done before nor is it something I could repeat again.”
Edryd was not sure what he should find harder to believe: that lifting a stone through the air was trivial, or that the explosion had been a fluke. “You didn’t crush it, you blew it apart,” Edryd corrected.
“No, I crushed the stone, and when I let go it rebounded,” Seoras explained. “I did not intend it, but that is what happened.”
Edryd didn’t understand the distinction. It also wasn’t the first time Seoras had inflicted an injury, this time a minor one thankfully, and gone on to claim that it had been inadvertent. Edryd’s knees buckled, and he came to rest, more falling than deliberately seating himself, down upon a wood crate across from the pile of fieldstone. Still very weak, and nowhere near recovered from his illness, he had lost the strength to keep himself standing.
“It confirms what I suspected,” Seoras continued. “You are very much attuned to the æther.”
“The what?”
“Sorcerers called it that. Sigil knights didn’t speak of it, but if ever they did, they called it the dark. The Ancients, who first discovered it, and built the bridges between worlds, called it the barrier, or more properly the continuum.”
Edryd had no idea what Seoras was talking about. He would have suspected that Seoras didn’t really know either, but the smattering of powdered rock that blanketed every part of the room offered credible evidence to the contrary.
