Emerald- Good and Evil

by M. D. Grimm

  ***

  My ears were ringing. I couldn’t have heard her right. This had to be some huge, colossal mistake. But no, it wasn’t. She resembled my brothers and me too much to deny the truth of her words. If Aishe hadn’t gripped my shoulders, I might have fallen. I leaned into him heavily, suddenly struggling for air.

  “Breathe, Morgorth, breathe.” Aishe shook me slightly. “Is this true? Is this even possible?”

  “Oh, it’s possible, Dialen,” Lorelei said and flipped her hair out of her eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised dear old papa didn’t mention me or my mama. My mother was nothing but a tool for him, and I wasn’t even worthy enough for attention. At least, until I was older.”

  Her hard tone penetrated my brain, and I finally managed to stand on my own. Aishe still gripped my arm but I think we both needed the connection. I took a deep breath and considered Lorelei, forcing myself to accept the revelation.

  “What do you mean?” I asked softly, my voice hoarse. I cleared my throat.

  Her eyes were hard and dark when they met mine. It was like staring into a mirror of a younger me. A shiver went down my spine. “Seems our papa likes young girls.”

  I was going to be sick. I struggled against the urge and swallowed. The magick flashed hot inside me and I pushed it down as well. “I’m going to tear him apart.” I barely recognized my own voice. My hands clenched into fists.

  Lorelei’s face softened slightly, her eyes became less bleak. Her smile wasn’t as bitter. “I’d like to watch that.” Then she hefted the axe onto her shoulder. “Listen, if you didn’t know about me, then you don’t know about my mother, or what she did for our father. You must have questions. Do you want answers?”

  Did I? I looked at Aishe. He still gripped my arm. He shrugged slightly, leaving the decision in my hands. I looked back at Lorelei. My sister. Dear Creator’s Light! I’d come this far, could I really stop now? I promised myself I would get answers. I would get them and I would accept them. Then I would move on.

  I nodded. “Lead the way.”

  She looked at the pile of wood she’d chopped. “Mind helping me with those?”

  With a word and a flick of the hand, a bubble formed around the wood, connected to me by a tether of force. I saw envy in Lorelei’s eyes. Then she turned and began walking.

  “I’ll get the horses.” Aishe jogged off the way we’d come. I stood there a moment, adjusting my brain to the idea I had a sister. Not only that, a half-sister who’d been abused by our father, and whose mother had somehow helped my father commit his atrocities. Who was this female, this Matylde?

  Aishe came back, leading the horses. “You sure about this?”

  “No.”

  But we followed Lorelei and I hoped the answers weren’t more than I could handle.

  ***

  The cottage could generously be called ramshackle. Tall trees loomed over a sagging roof, and the walls appeared sturdy but covered in moss. The door was off one hinge and the shutters of the windows were broken with holes. A well sat to the left with cracked stone bricks—a few had fallen off. It indicated a life of hiding. But from who and what?

  Lorelei gestured to a wooden crate set beside the cottage. I opened it with magick and deposited the wood easily. She watched me, her eyes dark and emotionless. Then she waited for Aishe to tie up the horses before opening the door, which was more of a task than it should have been, and gestured us inside.

  I subtly gestured for Aishe to stay close to me and he did. I didn’t sense any magick but non-magickal ambushes could kill just as well. Lorelei followed us in after heaving the door shut. The cottage was one room, dominated by a cold hearth. Two chairs sat in front of it. A large bed sat on the left and a small, modest kitchen to the right. Stained and frayed rugs covered the floor and the walls were bare. A few candles flickered here and there. It was a scene of such gut-wrenching poverty and despair, I nearly fled. Memories flooded into my mind: starvation, depredation, humiliation. My childhood home was not as impoverished as this, but my life had been.

  The stirring of something in one of the chairs by the cold hearth drew my attention. It was a dark figure huddled in blankets.

  “Lorelei?” The voice was thin, ashy.

  “Here, Mama,” Lorelei’s voice changed dramatically when speaking to her mother. It was calm, gentle, loving. She walked swiftly to her mother and knelt down in front of the figure.

  “You are not alone,” the voice said.

  “No, Mama. He’s come. He’s come at last.”

  My shoulders stiffened and tensed. Aishe touched my back with his hand.

  “Little Lazur,” Matylde said, her voice gaining some strength.

  Lorelei gestured for me to come closer and I did, albeit unwillingly. I didn’t want to step any farther into the despair that permeated the walls and threatened to suffocate me. Aishe’s presence allowed me stay on course. Lorelei stood and walked over to stand next to her mother’s chair. Knowing what they expected of me, I sat in the other chair. It was musty and damp, but I pushed aside my discomfort. Aishe stood to my right, his scent like fresh air.

  I finally focused my attention on Matylde and despite everything, I was startled by her appearance. She was more beautiful than her daughter. She was femininity at its finest. Her skin was smooth and pale, her features delicate and pristine. But her hair was gray and fragile, and there were bald patches on her head. Her eyes were the filmy white of blindness, and her teeth were black. Then her hands crept out from underneath the blankets, and they were bony and wrinkled, the nails yellow and flaky.

  Then I understood. “You were a sorcerer.”

  Sorcerers were different from mages; those like me were born with the magick of the Mother inside them. Magick only fully matured at puberty, and manifested during a highly charged emotional moment in the mage’s life—such as a first kiss or an instant of great anger. Sorcerers, on the other hand, were those creatures, usually seelas, who were magickally ungifted. They stole magick from others, used herbs and poisons to accomplish their goals. It was a deadly, risky way to live. The Hand made it a point to find and stamp out sorcerers before they gained too much power. My father was a sorcerer, using the stone. Kayl, despite being a weak mage magickally speaking, became a sorcerer because Rambujek had given him more power than he would gain on his own. However, if I took up a stone, I wouldn’t be labeled a sorcerer—the stones would only amplify my own abilities. I could accomplish most spells on my own.

  Matylde smiled thinly. “You are perceptive. Good. Your voice holds intelligence and restraint. That is also good. It tells me your father did not succeed in his task.”

  “How did you help him?” I asked. “And why would you?”

  “I loved him.” She said it so simply, so sadly, I couldn’t speak for a full minute.

  “I want answers,” I said finally. “I deserve them. You should also know, I intend to kill him.”

  She sighed, the sound ragged. “Good.”

  Part of me had expected her to try and stop me. I glanced at Lorelei, but her gaze was fixed on the hearth. She seemed to have separated herself from our conversation. I couldn’t blame her. She probably knew everything her mother was about to tell me.

  I looked back at Matylde. “Tell me everything.”

  She smirked, blinking her blind eyes. “Be careful what you ask for, little Lazur.”

  “Morgorth,” I said firmly. “My name is Morgorth.”

  She nodded. “Good, strong name. ‘Violent defender’ in the language of the ludkis. Your choice, I suspect, has meaning far outreaching your original intent.”

  I had nothing to say to that.

  She coughed before speaking again. “So, you want to know the truth? Then here it is.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Lazur was born the seventh son of a nobleman on the southern outskirts of the Zentha kingdom. But, as the seventh and youngest son, he received little of the inheritance. His eldest brother took much of the land after their fathe
r died, and while his other brothers became soldiers or merchants, he was convinced he was destined for more. Ambition drove him to travel and to research. He learned everything he could about the world, especially magick. He met several weak mages along his journeys who told him tales about the seventh sons of seventh sons: Nanthar and Kierthak.

  That moment directed the rest of his life.

  He focused his research on Nanthar and Kierthak. He read at the great libraries around Karishian, and spoke with traveling merchants, bards, weak mages, and sorcerers. He realized he had half the puzzle already figured out: he was a seventh son. This idea gave him power and purpose. He could do something his brothers could not: he could bring a seventh son of a seventh son into the world. He could create a powerful mage—and through that child, dominate and shape the world to his design.

  He met Matylde during one of these journeys, as he spent time in a great library to the south. She was ambitious herself: having never been born with magick, she began the dangerous journey to steal it from others. This path had consequences, but she was willing to pay them as her thirst for power rivaled Lazur’s own.

  Their attraction was immediate and Lazur saw a way to use her. She saw this as a way to gain power she never had. She was born to poor, beggar parents and strived to become more than her origins. She ran away from home at a young age and did what she had to do to survive. Blinded by love and ambition, she followed Lazur and did whatever he told her to do.

  Lazur eventually settled and bought a farm. He married a weak-willed female, Amylin, since her family often had many children. He wanted a breeder. Matylde brewed potions that made it impossible for Amylin to have daughters. With each birth, Lazur became more desperate, more impatient. Where he had once only been ambitious and manipulative in the beginning, he became violent and cruel. He began to feel the power before the task was done.

  As a result of her stealing and use of magick, Matylde was unable to have children. That is, until Lorelei was born. For Matylde, her daughter was a miracle. She was born right after Olyvre and a few months before Morgorth.

  Everything changed once Morgorth was born. Lazur began to distance himself from Matylde and spent more time with his family, waiting for Morgorth to grow old enough to train. Lazur decided he no longer needed Matylde, confident he could train his son without help or interference. He was now so bent on gaining power, he couldn’t fathom sharing it with anyone—even one who had proven loyal.

  Matylde finally confronted Lazur at her home one night about his distance, about their deal. Lazur finally told her he was done with her. She had no more use to him. He ordered her to stay away and to never let him see her again.

  Heartbroken, Matylde laid a cyrse—a dark spell, with a limited lifespan of twenty-four hours—on Lazur, using one of his hairs. Despite not being a mage, Matylde was very skilled with magick. Her cyrse was that Lazur would lose the prize he sought for so long.

  That night, Morgorth escaped.

  Lazur then tracked Matylde down and demanded she find Morgorth. Matylde, finally seeing Lazur for the monster he was, refused. He beat her nearly to death. Lorelei hid during this confrontation but managed to keep her mother alive.

  It was a few days before Matylde was well enough to send a querian to an acquaintance: a powerful mage named Master Ulezander. She once frequented Illum where he often visited and while theirs was not a friendship, as she stole magick and had none of her own, they were cordial to each other. Matylde knew the danger of leaving a child of such power on his own. She wrote to him, urging him to find and destroy the child.

  But it would seem her letter came too late. Master Ulezander had already found Morgorth. He received the letter several days after he’d taken Morgorth into his home. It was then he alerted the Council of Mages about Morgorth’s existence. Their reaction was the same as Matylde’s had been: to destroy.

  Master Ulezander visited her only once after that. He demanded her entire story. After she told him everything, he ordered her to never use magick again, and to take her daughter and hide in the forest. The council and the Hand would seek to punish her for her contribution to the creation of a dark mage. She fled, and when she stopped using magick, her health steadily declined.

  Of Lazur, she didn’t see him again for many years. Until, only a month ago, he suddenly found her. He gloated at her desperation, joked over her misfortunes. He shoved a gemstone, an emerald, into her face, claiming it to be a stone of power. Matylde knew he was telling the truth. The stone pulsed with magick, spoke to her. It offered itself to her, simpering, as if feeling her pain and offering itself as a balm. She had lashed out for it but he easily shoved her away.

  It was then Lorelei entered the cottage. It was then he raped her. He spoke as he did, telling Matylde he would leave them alive because they weren’t worth the effort of killing. He claimed he needed no one but himself. Only he would have and control the power. And with a major stone of power, who could stop him?

  As he stood by the doorway, about to leave, as Matylde held and tried to comfort her daughter, he said his final words: he’d waited a long time to punish his son for his desertion. And he would finally prove who the real dark mage was.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morgorth

  I sat, bent over, my head in my hands. It was a struggle not to vomit. I knew, logically, my life wasn’t the only one my father had destroyed. But to hear a firsthand account from someone he’d royally fucked over was an eye-opener.

  I vaguely realized Lorelei had started a fire and now sat, her back to us, her eyes fixed on the flames. He’d raped her for no other reason than to prove he could. To humiliate and hurt Matylde. Lorelei was nothing to him, less than nothing. Everyone in his life had been a tool, used and discarded, thrown away like garbage.

  My head and neck throbbed with tension. I pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes. Matylde’s story spun through my mind. It was hard to grab onto anything, to focus on just one revelation.

  Master Ulezander knew all of this. He knew. He’d never told me. Never even fucking hinted at my father’s true depravity. That mage was so full of secrets. I was surprised they didn’t spill out his ears. My teeth clenched as anger swelled. I welcomed it.

  Lazur had a major stone of power. Matylde confirmed what Olyvre had told me. How had he found it? Where had he found it? Only he could answer me.

  Aishe tentatively touched my shoulder. “Morgorth?”

  It was humiliating to learn where I came from: weakness and violence, cruelty and ambition. I was born from nothing good, nothing pure. And now Aishe knew as much as I did about my origins.

  I lowered my hands, lifted my head. I stared at Matylde. She seemed to have deflated, leaning heavily back into her chair. Her eyes were half shut, her breathing ragged. She’d had a hand in everything. She made sure I was born. And while some of my anger was directed at her, the idea of punishing her never crossed my mind. Her punishment had already been determined. And Lorelei...she’d done nothing. She was just a victim, even more so than me.

  I cleared my throat. “Thank you, Matylde. You have been most helpful.”

  She smiled slightly. “You hate me. You should hate me. I only ask, though I have no right to, that should you wish to destroy me, you leave my daughter alone. She has done harm to no one.”

  Lorelei spun around, her eyes huge and wet. “Mother!”

  I stood. Lorelei instantly leapt up and threw herself in front of her mother, her arms outstretched. Her eyes were hard, bitter, but brave.

  “Don’t you dare touch her!”

  I could only stare. Then I lifted my hands slowly, palms out. “I have no wish to harm your mother. Or you. It would gain me nothing but more blood on my hands.”

  Lorelei shuddered out a breath and cautiously lowered her arms.

  I looked past her to her mother. “I should actually thank you once again, Matylde. Your cyrse helped me escape, and your letter helped Master Ulezander know what he was dealing with.”<
br />
  “He was your mentor?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded, smiling. “Good. That is good. He is noble, decent.”

  I frowned. “He told you to stop taking magick and to hide in the forest. He punished you.”

  “No, he saved us. He never told the Hand about me. And what I did caused this punishment. My only regret is I condemned my own daughter to the same punishment.”

  “Mama.”

  “Don’t argue with me! You know it to be true. You shouldn’t have to live in shame like this.”

  Lorelei met my eyes. I saw resentment for her current life but there was also loyalty to her mother.

  “Do you truly mean to destroy him?” Lorelei asked softly.

  “I do.”

  “Do you swear?”

  I was silent for a moment, then I slowly raised my hand and extended it to her. “I swear.”

  She stared at my hand as if it would bite her. Then, when I only waited patiently, she slowly extended her hand and clasped mine. The grip held for a heartbeat. I stepped back, inclined my head to her. Then we were outside, and Aishe heaved the door shut behind us. I began to stride away, leaving Aishe to grab the horses.

  The fresh air helped clear my head and banish the musty, confined smell of that house. My hands clenched and my magick burned. I had a powerful headache.

  “Morgorth, wait!”

  I didn’t. I couldn’t. I barely saw the forest, the trees. I barely heard the flutter of birds’ wings or the chatter of rodents. I knew nothing but what I felt inside.

  “Mate! Just stop for a moment. Where are you going? We need to talk about this... Hunter’s Bow, how did you stay so calm through all that? I was—”

  I spun around. Aishe stopped short, both horses behind him. His eyes widened even as the horses became agitated.

  “Calm?” I growled. “Do I look calm to you?” My magick flashed to the surface, causing my skin to glow, my eyes to shine amber. “I am roiling.”