by Colt, K. J.
The door behind them opened, and a tall man in his sixties strode inside. “Medoriate Woolens, this is an unexpected surprise,” he said in a warm, deep voice. He took her hand when she stood to meet him. Eraekryst watched them without expression.
“It has been a long time,” she admitted.
“Do I owe this meeting to business or pleasure?” Corbin asked, glancing at the pale man yet seated.
Miria sighed. “Business, I’m afraid. Allow me to introduce my guest, Eraekryst of Celaedrion.”
The Ilangien only bowed his head from where he sat.
Miria blushed. “You must excuse him; he is a foreigner to these parts.”
The wizard studied the Ilangien curiously. “‘Of Celaedrion,’” he echoed. “Where might that be?”
Eraekryst gestured to the map. “’Tis the heart of this continent, unlabeled but for the term, ‘Wild Forest.’”
Corbin’s brow furrowed. “You are from the Great Forest?”
“As I have stated.”
Corbin looked at him dubiously. “I had not known the forest to be inhabited. In any case, it is nice to meet you, Eraekryst.” He moved behind his desk and took a seat across from them, folding his hands. “How can I help you?”
Miria set the posting on his desk. “I was hoping you could explain this to me.”
Corbin unfolded the paper and looked up at her. “Well, as you can see, we aim to catch a criminal.”
“Did you issue this posting?” Miria asked, reclaiming her seat.
“I approved its dispersal, yes,” Corbin said. “Is there a problem with it?”
“Other than its wrongful and incriminating contents,” Eraekryst said, his cool gaze upon the wizard, “it has misused my artful depiction of my companion.”
“Eraekryst, please,” Miria said, embarrassed.
“I do not understand,” Corbin said. “What is your purpose here?”
“I do apologize,” Miria said, “and I will explain. Eraekryst was witness to the events that occurred the night I.M.A.G.I.N.E.’s meeting hall was infiltrated by the Demon. He contests that the Demon is responsible for any transgressions listed on that posting.
“For my part, I was wondering how I.M.A.G.I.N.E. could so easily issue their own bounty for a Mystland citizen without first consulting the council. I don’t believe all the facts have been examined.”
Corbin rubbed his brow as though he could ease the wrinkles from it. “How is it that you determined I.M.A.G.I.N.E. is responsible for this posting?”
“As Lady Miria stated, I am a witness,” Eraekryst said, his patience ebbing.
“How is it that you were there, in I.M.A.G.I.N.E.’s meeting hall?” Corbin asked.
“I am the stolen item listed.”
Miria held up a hand. “I was notified that Medoriate Jagur and several of his companions had entered the Southern Gate with an unwilling addition to their group. Eraekryst was brought into Mystland by Medoriate Jagur and taken to the meeting hall for questioning. Eraekryst says that he was imprisoned and ill-treated. He claims the Demon infiltrated the hall with the intention of freeing him.”
“Not to offend, but what would Medoriate Jagur want with you, Mr. Eraekryst?” Corbin asked.
“’Twas the purpose in his illegal venture to Secrailoss to steal the Stone of Prophecy: me. His party wishes to exploit my inherent abilities as a Mentrailyic.”
“You are a Mentrailyic?”
“I am not fond of repeating myself.”
Corbin drummed his fingers on the desk. “So I gather. And you mean to say that the White Demon is your savior and not guilty of the crimes on this posting.”
“He was the thief I.M.A.G.I.N.E. hired to retrieve the Stone. In doing so, he was my liberator. Let it be known that Medoriate Jagur never paid the durmorth for his services—even when I was reclaimed as I.M.A.G.I.N.E.’s property. The durmorth, then, was also responsible for my second liberation.” Eraekryst had started to rock back and forth in the chair, not in an attempt to relax, but as a consequence of his growing impatience.
“You seem in fair health, Mr. Eraekryst. Explain to me how you were abused when Medoriate Jagur and Medoriate Arden sustained minor injuries from the Demon’s assault,” Corbin challenged.
“’Twas a trivial consequence they suffered as they attempted to interfere with my liberation,” Eraekryst answered easily.
“He did have a bruise on his face,” Miria added. “It seems to have healed.”
“He must be a fast healer,” Corbin said.
Eraekryst nodded.
“There were scorch marks upon the ceiling inside the hall.” Corbin sat back and stared at the Ilangien, raising his eyebrows.
“An accident on account of the durmorth’s ardent temper.”
“So he did both assault the medori and start a fire,” Corbin said.
Abruptly Eraekryst stopped rocking and sat forward. “You ignore the context of his actions to portray him in an ill light.”
“And you do not seem to understand the crimes that have been committed. I approved this posting because the White Demon is a criminal. His presence in Norkindara has been tolerated despite his notoriety. We ignored his reputation with the thought that proper schooling could transform him into a member of higher standing in our society. Clearly it was only a matter of time before his compliant façade shattered. We cannot ignore him any longer. He needs to be detained and tried. That is how our system works. Miria, you of all people would know this.”
Miria smoothed her dress. “I do, but I feel the matter needs further investigation. How can we ignore what I.M.A.G.I.N.E. has done? Abduction, hiring a thief, an illegal expedition….”
“All of these accusations have yet to be proven,” Corbin said.
Miria stared at him slack-jawed. “Hasn’t Eraekryst’s story impressed upon you any sense of the injustice here?”
“As far as I know, Miria, it is just that: a story. I do not know what Mr. Eraekryst has to gain from incriminating I.M.A.G.I.N.E., but that, too, can be explored. For now, his role is unimportant. There is a dangerous criminal roaming Mystland, and it is my responsibility to see him brought to justice. Do you understand my situation?”
Eraekryst sighed. “I.M.A.G.I.N.E. The Integration of Medori Amongst Generalized International Non-magical Environments. Lady Miria has informed me that they are a radical group of wizards who promote their superior influence over the non-magical Humans outside Mystland. Their motives are unlawful and questionable, as are their activities. Yet you do not feel the need to investigate their wrongdoings as you do my companion. I ask you, what motive do you have in supplicating such a group?”
Corbin’s face had turned scarlet. “Do you understand the accusation you make, sir?”
Miria, on the contrary, had paled. “He is unfamiliar with our system of law, Corbin. All we mean to say is that this matter is a tangled knot that needs further investigation to weed out the guilty party.”
“We know the guilty party!” Corbin flew up, slamming a fist on the desk. “He flees from the system! What is it that you expect, Miria? Once we catch him—and we will—he will be brought to trial. Not only will he answer for his crimes in Mystland, but he will most likely be delivered to Belorn to answer for the years he attacked passing caravans and merchants. There he will be hanged or beheaded—I care not which—and justice will be served. I cannot understand your involvement in this matter.”
There was a delicate pause as Miria chose her words. “Regardless of his reputation, I want to hear his story. You know that I am always striving to support the truth. I need to see this from all angles. It is my job to oversee such matters. All I ask is that you delay your search. Allow me to find the Demon, question him, and then I will bring him to the council for trial.”
Corbin took a moment to compose himself. “You ask for time.” He shook his head. “Ah, Miria. I admire your optimism. This, however, is not your investigation. A felon lurks amongst our people, and you want me to ease my efforts
to bring him to justice. I can’t do that. Even if I could, what do you think you would learn from him? What good is his word? And what good is his so-called witness?” Corbin gestured toward Eraekryst. “The Demon’s fate is inevitable. I suggest you refocus your efforts on a matter worthwhile of your attention.”
“This is but a labyrinth of deceit,” Eraekryst said, “when truths are ignored to continue an underhanded and corrupt leadership. Such is not justice; such is greed. To what benefit, then, are your laws?” His cold stare was sharp upon the wizard as he awaited an answer.
“You speak in ignorance. I will not entertain your pointless questions and insults.” Corbin crumpled the posting and tossed it behind him.
“I, too, am a leader, and such deviance disgusts me.” Eraekryst stood, brushed himself off, and stalked out the door.
Miria rose and started after him.
“You must know you will stand alone in this,” Corbin said after her. “You need to reevaluate your alliances, Miria.”
She paused to regard him. “Yes, I think I understand now.”
Then she left and shut the door behind her. She had to run to catch up to the Ilangien’s lengthy strides.
“This has been a grand waste of time,” he said. “Is there nothing to be done?”
“Eraekryst, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—I didn’t know I.M.A.G.I.N.E.’s hold on the council. Even now I wonder at the extent of the corruption. I thought I could trust Corbin, but he might be right. We stand alone.”
He did not so much as glance at her as he continued at his brisk pace. “I care not with whom I stand. Your laws hold no value, and so I will not heed them. I do not fear the consequences of your council; I only fear that we may not reach the durmorth before his enemies.”
“I will do what I can to help you, but we can’t lose faith that we will find him,” Miria said. “You said yourself that he is quite capable when it comes to evasion.”
Eraekryst frowned. A wounded animal can only run so long before the hunter comes to claim it. The stains of his trail grow darker.
They stepped outside into the afternoon sunlight to find a carriage stationed there. Eraekryst stopped.
“What’s the matter?” Miria asked.
The Ilangien did not answer, but a coachman appeared from the opposite side of the carriage and approached them. He was dressed formally, complete with black coat, hat, trousers, and polished boots. At first glance, he seemed an average gentleman with a dusky complexion and a black moustache. His eyes, however, were concealed behind dark-tinted glasses, and this oddity, coupled with a lack of expression, caused Miria and Eraekryst to exchange a wary glance.
The coachman bowed and gestured to the carriage.
“Evidently, we are expected,” Eraekryst murmured.
“Who are you?” Miria asked, a slight quiver to her voice. “What is it you wish of us?”
Again the man gestured to the carriage.
Unafraid, the Ilangien stepped forward. “The answers are for us to pursue, Lady Miria, though you are not bound to my venture by any sense of obligation.”
Miria hesitated before following behind him. “I said I would help you, and I meant it. I only hope this does not land us in deeper trouble.”
“Ah, this alone does not bode well, though I seem compelled to chase danger when it involves my companion—as I expect is the case now.” The coachman opened the door, and Eraekryst climbed inside.
Miria took a deep breath and did the same. No sooner were they settled, the door closed, and they began to move. The two women situated across from them had been so still that Miria had not noticed them. She started when one of them spoke.
“Keeper of the Great Forest, Medoriate Miria Woolens, we welcome you. We believe we have a proposal of great benefit to you…” In the darkness of the cab, the woman’s teeth gleamed with her smile.
The Demon had not noticed when it ceased being cold. The extremes in temperature came and went in turn, but he had always been attentive to whether he was shivering or sweating. He shook now, but he was not cold. Not anymore. He was not sweating, either, and if he cared to consider his state—which he did not—he would have found himself beyond simple logic. To say he was comfortable would have also been untrue, and yet he was not as miserable as he had been the past few days. His state had not improved, but he had come to accept the numbing pall that had settled upon him.
He knew that it was either morning or sunset, judging by the warmth and hue of the light through his eyelids. Whichever it was, he did not feel inclined to open his eyes to make the discovery. In truth, he did not feel inclined to move at all. He vaguely recalled huddling at the base of the tree one chilly night, but if it had been last night or the night before, he did not know.
There was something new. A sound. Footsteps in the dry leaves. “Em’ri, I did not mean to fall asleep,” he murmured in his native tongue. He envisioned his brother heading for him, smiling at the thought. “Just a little longer. I promise. I was tired….”
The footsteps paused, and there were voices. Try though he might, he could not make sense of their words. Some semblance of consciousness returned to him. Voices. They found me. Blood of Oqrantos, I can’t move. He tried to stir, to lift his arms or stretch his legs, but his limbs did not seem a part of him.
His stomach tightened, and he opened his eyes. He made a sound between a groan and a growl at the surrounding figures. “Nigqora sen. Leave me be,” he whispered hoarsely. He struggled to rise, and stumbled back against the tree. Why can’t I move?
He staggered away from the tree and poised the obsidian knife before him. The figures began to advance, and he tried to back away. Something happened, and he found himself on the ground again, staring up at the branches and the sky. There was no sound but his heart, beating inside his ears, pulsing in his head. Shadows crossed his vision, and the branches dissolved into nothingness. No, wait…wait… Then all thought left him.
CHAPTER TEN
THE CANTALEREUM
DAWN’S SUBTLE LIGHT rivaled that of the tall figure standing at the base of a large stone altar. Eraekryst’s pale eyes were set upon the horizon, watching as a sliver of the sun infiltrated the blushing sky. He stood as still as the stone behind him, though a soft breeze lifted the long, colorless locks of his hair, sending them trailing over his shoulders.
“I have waited long for this,” he said softly, without turning to the approaching woman.
Miria came to stand at Eraekryst’s side, and they both looked from the hilltop over the forested valley below. Traces of green had emerged upon the branches, and some of the trees were swathed in blossoms of white or pink. Mira took a breath, and Eraekryst glanced at her.
“You find it beautiful,” he said.
“Yes,” she murmured. “I’ve never been here before. In fact, I’ve heard this is an eerie place, full of mysteries and secrets. I was told to stay away, to keep my business elsewhere.” She looked back at the silhouetted and ominous shape of the temple. “I can see why you prefer to be out here.”
“There is no sanctuary here, Lady Miria. Darker mysteries lurk yonder as well as within the witches’ dwelling.” His silvery eyes remained focused in the distance, as though he had spotted something.
“What do you mean?” Miria asked.
Eraekryst gave her a grim smile. “’Tis nothing of your concern, and perhaps ’tis nothing of mine.”
There was a moment of silence while she studied him. “The Larini have promised to remove your collar in exchange for a chance to talk to the Demon. Now the Demon is here, and it seems they will keep their word.” She looked down at her hands. “You must be eager, to say the least.”
“As I said, I have waited long for this.” He frowned. “But the price of my liberation concerns me.”
“I don’t see why. The Larini want to help the Demon, too.” Miria continued to fidget. “There is more to this than you’ve told me. I know he’s in trouble, and I know he’s sick. But this isn’t some passin
g fever, is it?”
“Nay. His life fades,” Eraekryst murmured. Then he waved his hand. “As it is with you mortals. Such a desperate fight for something you cannot keep. I admire it, and I pity it, but more than anything, I wish I could better understand it.”
“You speak of us as though we’re so different from you,” Miria said, a hint of agitation in her voice. “We’re not, really. You may live a very long life, but it’s still a life, and I would think you still have feelings and emotions just as we do.”
“My heart is not painted so vibrantly, Lady Miria. I am not so moved by emotions, as the durmorth has so shown me.” He touched the collar around his neck. “Soon, though, I hope to uncover my eyes, and I will be blind no more.”
“You have told me so little about yourself, Eraekryst. I know you’re a Mentrailyic, and I know the collar suppresses your abilities. What is it, exactly, that you can do—other than glimpse the future?”
“I…” Eraekryst blinked and looked at the ground. “I…” He could see them in his mind as though he was reliving those moments—memories from the black mountain that had left him scarred. It all began with the fear in their eyes, the growing terror when they realized they were going to die. They would plead, and they would cry. Then they would scream and scream until their life had escaped them. But still they were not gone—not completely. They were still with him….
“Eraekryst!” Miria cried, shaking his shoulder.
The Ilangien blinked and met her gaze. “Did I not answer your question?”
She stared at him, her brow furrowed. “No, you… You are all right, aren’t you?”
“’Tis a silly question. I am not the one who warrants concern,” he said.
Miria turned away. “We should check on him. Should he awaken and find himself in that room—”
“The contents of the room are irrelevant. The witches should be treated with caution.”
She took a step back in his direction, searching his pale face. “You’re afraid of them, aren’t you?”
