by M. D. Grimm
Father.
On the lane that led up to the grand manor, there was no mistaking the bulky form that was Lazur Freydsson. He still wore dark clothing over his broad frame, his black hair shaggy and long, his beard equally so. His eyes were the same muddy brown I saw when I looked in a mirror. Despite my shock, I didn’t stop. It would be my death if I did. I ran straight toward him, my heart in my throat, the howls of the lutin at my heels. My father held an older male seela high in the air. They seemed to be having a conversation...which was interrupted when I brought my father’s own assassins straight to his ass.
My father spun around, cruel eyes widening. For the briefest of moments, for the space of one heartbeat, our eyes met. It had been so many years, countless years, since I looked into those eyes. They hadn’t changed. I saw ambition, cruelty, a willingness to do everything and anything necessary to reach his goals, no matter who he had to throw to the revenai. Selfishness and vanity, but also a sense of inferiority blanketed the seela before me. I didn’t recognize it as a child, but now I did. I also saw other things, things I should have seen before, but thinking about him was something I tried not to do often.
Lazur looked utterly shocked to see me. Then he saw the swarm behind me and grimaced. The male seela he held up in the air suddenly dropped to the ground as my father gripped something hanging around his neck. For a moment I was terrified he might throw some of the emerald’s power at me, but then he simply vanished. Poof.
I gaped. Fucking coward. He wouldn’t participate in a confrontation he didn’t initiate. And how dare he know how to teleport when it had taken me so long to learn it! Oh, he was going to die. I was going to enjoy killing him.
The older seela staggered to his feet, gripping his head. With a burst of speed, I reached his side, creating some distance from the lutin. I shoved him rudely behind me, and he fell on his ass again. He gaped at me, blood on his face, his tailored clothing streaked with it.
“Stay behind me,” I said before turning to the lutin. I took several deep breaths, magick pulsing, causing my skin to tingle. Pure energy raced through my veins, strong and sure.
We were outside the village, between it and the manor. No collateral damage if I did this right. One swift move was what I planned, knowing I didn’t have all the lutin in pursuit. I could pick off the rest, or perhaps they would flee when they saw what could be in store for them.
The lutin bore down on me, and I closed my eyes, wiggled my fingers. It was to be one big burst of magick, all of it coming wholly from inside me, and I wouldn’t be able to sustain it for long. One big spell and I hoped to the cosmos my magick was up for it.
“They’re coming!” the elderly seela squeaked behind me. “Do something!”
“Shut up,” I murmured. Then I opened my eyes, thought of a new spell, a new word, and waited until I could see my reflection in the first lutin’s eyes. “This is for the Ravena tribe.”
I flung out my arms and an enormous wall of fire roared into life. It was tall, wide, impossible to jump over, crawl under, or run around. For a split second the fire was red and orange, like that from a comforting campfire. But it soon turned blue like that of a star, then a brilliant white, the heat withering any close plant life, melting rocks, singeing my cuffs. It was exactly the same fire as what I’d used on Elorn but this wasn’t a stream, it was a wall. I formed it, controlled it, my muscles tightening in pain. I vaguely heard the older man gasp and choke, scrambling away from heat that sucked oxygen from air, that melted granite and diamonds. I held a star wall in front of the lutin, similar in concept to Kayl’s little star ball he’d once tried to throw at Aishe, but this was on a much larger scale.
The first lutin to encounter the wall simply turned to ash. Others tried to stop but the ones behind pushed them forward, also turning them to ash. Still others, far in the back, tried to turn away. I took a deep breath, nearly coughed at the heat and lack of oxygen. Sweat dripped down my face, my body, causing my clothes to stick. With a flip of my wrists the wall shot down the lane, plunging through lutin bodies, turning them to sprays of ash. My wall even caught those that had turned around to run away, leaving nothing behind. My muscles wanted to contract from the strain of holding the spell, even though the duration was small. It was the size of the wall that caused the strain. I was using a lot more energy than I should be, since stars were constantly combusting fiery gas balls. I certainly wouldn’t do this spell again in a hurry. My arms still outstretched, I released the spell only when the last lutin to have pursued me was gone. Even with my magick still at the surface, I gasped in pain and fell to one knee. Unable to get enough oxygen, I sucked it in greedily, shivering against the sudden cool air. I realized steam rose from my clothes, my skin, and my insides knotted painfully.
I didn’t settle my magick inside my core, but I did draw it away from the surface. It soon hummed instead of sang, and I couldn’t have moved even if another horde of lutin descended upon me. I knew I destroyed most of the lutin since I couldn’t hear much from the village, no screams, no roars. In fact...I couldn’t hear anything at all except the crackle of fire and my own wheezing. Even lifting my head was an effort but I did and blinked to clear my vision. Folks doused the fires or walked around slowly in a daze. Was it over?
Someone came jogging up the lane, and as he came closer I realized it was the swordmaster I’d seen in the village. He glanced at me before running past.
“Father, are you all right?” the young seela said.
“I—I seem to be. I—this mage, he—” The old male seemed to be in shock.
“Mage? Was he the one to cause the bright light?”
“Yes, I think—”
“The lutin gone?” I croaked out. “All gone?”
There was a pause before a hand lightly touched my shoulder. “Yes, the ones still in the village ran when they saw that light. What did you do? It was like a star had come down from the sky.”
I bowed my head, relieved.
The hand on my shoulder squeezed. “I have never seen lutin afraid. But they were afraid of that light. Of you.”
Good. They should be afraid.
“Thank you, Mage,” he said, quieter.
I shook my head. “Don’t. Didn’t do it for you. I want the bastard who brought those beasts here.”
I managed to stand and was proud my legs stopped trembling. It would seem I was getting my second wind. I couldn’t wait any longer. My father might decide to take his rage out on Olyvre. Not that I left my brother unprotected—I’d set crystals around his house with a shielding spell, but since my father had Ellegrech, they wouldn’t keep him out forever.
Turning, I finally got a good look at the swordmaster. He was slightly older than I was and strapping, fit, handsome. He certainly looked like a young lord. I glanced at the older seela to see stone gray hair, a wrinkled face, but the same strapping body. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Your eyes—” the older seela said.
I frowned. “What of them?”
“They...” The lord looked sick. “You’re Lazur’s child. The seventh son of a seventh son.”
I tilted my head slightly as the swordmaster took a step away from me. “I am Lord Morgorth, Dark Mage of the East. I assume you’re Lazur’s brother? The heir of this manor?”
The older man nodded even as his son stepped in front of him, his sword unsheathed but dangling from one hand.
“What did Lazur say to you?” I asked, ignoring the son, focusing on the lord. My uncle. Mother’s bosom, my uncle.
The lord, while scared, looked fascinated as he stared at me. “He gloated and threatened, as he always did, even when we were children.”
“That’s it? He was going to kill you, wasn’t he?”
The lord shuddered and looked away. That was answer enough. My father probably wanted to torture him first before killing him. Just for kicks.
“I suggest you leave now, Mage,” the swordmaster said. “We want nothing to do with you or your father.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sins of the father, then, Cousin?” The word was foreign on my tongue. “I’ve never done harm to you or yours.”
The swordmaster’s face tightened. “You are no kin of mine, seventh son of a seventh son. You will find no welcome here.”
So much for gratitude. It didn’t look like they would invite me to any family dinners. While not surprised by their rejection, it still hurt, just under the heart.
“Next time I’ll just let the lutin eat and rape you all to death, then, shall I?” I couldn’t keep the scorn out of my tone.
They seemed to have no answer to that. The swordmaster lifted his sword. “Be on your way.”
I gave a flourishing bow. “The courtesy and gratitude of the Freydsson Estate is humbling, and it pains me to decline their generous offer of hospitality. I regretfully still have a mission I must complete.”
I straightened to see the shame now mixed with determination on the swordmaster’s face. There was also shame and fear on the lord’s face. I stepped closer, daring my cousin to raise his blade against me. But his arm and gaze stayed steady. I had to admire that.
“Hate me all you want,” I whispered. “But remember, Cousin, you owe me.”
His mouth thinned but he didn’t deny it. There was no denying it. I came to their aid when they had desperately needed help and now these two lords owed me. I didn’t know if I would ever need them in the future but it was good to have marks to call in.
I stared at him a moment longer before stepping back and inclining my head in farewell. Then I spun on my heel and strode down the lane. It didn’t take me long to find Aishe. He was healing a child with a leg nearly cut in half. I waited until the yellow light faded before walking to him.
“We need to leave,” I said.
“But these folks—”
“We need to leave.”
Tired, but stubborn eyes met mine. I narrowed my own.
“This isn’t done, Aishe. We have to find him or we’ll have more dead bodies on our hands.”
I could tell leaving these wounded people was hard on Aishe but he nodded and stood. The villagers pleaded with him to stay, and some even threw me dirty looks, but Aishe only walked away, each step seeming to weigh him down. We walked through the village and out. Standing on the outskirts of the village, I gripped his hand, his skin icy.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” I said softly.
Aishe squeezed my hand. “And I, you. The bright light was you.”
It wasn’t a question but I nodded. “My imitation of a star. Burned them all to ash.”
Aishe turned wide eyes on me. I raised an eyebrow.
“Are you still able to confront your father?”
“Do I have a choice?” I shook my head. “I’m strong, Aishe. That spell only winded me. I’ll worry about that later.”
“Why would you worry?”
“I grow stronger with each passing day,” I said softly. It seemed the harder I pushed myself, the stronger I became, and the faster I healed. “That’s the way of mages, but...when will I hit my limit? Does a seventh son of a seventh son even have a limit?”
Aishe kissed my cheek. “You’re right. We will talk about this later.”
Nodding, I closed my eyes and teleported us to what I hoped would be my final confrontation on this blasted journey.
***
The place certainly looked run-down. But most of it looked the same. The house itself needed to be rebuilt after I had set fire to it. But the style was so similar it was as though it never happened. The farm was desolate, the soil striped of nutrients, useless for planting crops or feeding animals. The forest close by had grown outward, creeping closer to the house. It was within that forest I’d found my magick, when I’d called it to me.
I was back where it all started.
The image of this place had never left my mind. I could see it all, relive it all, phantom sensations rippling through me, faint voices echoing in my ears. My formative years had been here, my training done here. My first words spoken, my first steps taken, my first tears shed. All of it happened on this farm, in this hell.
What had been my first word, you might wonder?
Stop.
It had been stop.
I strode forward, gesturing with my hand to Aishe, indicating he should stay back. He did.
Without hesitation, my magick flashed hot, and a blue fireball formed in my hand. With a bellowed word I tossed the ball at the house, setting it ablaze once again. The fire roared, devouring the wood eagerly, collapsing the house. I waited, my magick high and hot. It seemed to take ages but was only a few short moments before my father walked out of the fire. He was protected by a full-body shield; a shield a stone of power could easily give the possessor. Major stones of power gave the most powerful shields. Mother, give me cunning.
The fact he didn’t have any magickal muscle, the way I did, didn’t matter. He had the stone. It would buffer him, shield him. All he needed was will and desire. He couldn’t fall into magick fever the way I could, and there wouldn’t be a backlash from anything he did. Yet his body was still fragile, mortal, and the stones were traitorous, eagerly awaiting the moment to betray their wielder. Yet I knew how to pull magick from the elements, and my magickal muscle was strong and exercised routinely. I was all around stronger than him...but was I stronger than the stone?
The house collapsed fully, the fire licking at the remains. Lazur, the seventh son of a nobleman, stepped away from the remains, unconcerned and unflinching. I brought both hands up, spells and words whirling inside my mind. I am ready, I told myself. I must be.
I fought the fear knotted in my gut. The instinctual terror brought by those damn memories weren’t destroyed as easily as a wooden building. They spun through my head like a tornado. I acutely remembered him, felt all the pain and humiliation once again. I relived it all in a flash and it caused me to tremble. Dammit.
“You’re not alone, Morgorth,” Aishe said.
In that instant, the fear faded and the knot untied. His voice, his presence, soothed and strengthened me. No, I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t a child. I was Lord Morgorth, Dark Mage of the East, Dark Mage of the North, bane of the Council of Mages, terror of the world. I was a villain, I was strong, and, most importantly, I was loved by the most wonderful creature the Mother ever created.
I wouldn’t lose.
“Little Lazur,” my father crooned. “My son. All grown up.”
His voice was the same: strong, deep, a little husky. All evil. Now that I was closer to him, I saw the silver in his black hair, but otherwise, it was as if those intervening years hadn’t happened. But they had, I told myself. He might be the same man, but I wasn’t.
I also wasn’t imagining the fear lurking behind his eyes. I’d disturbed him when I showed up at his brother’s estate. I hadn’t followed his plan. Again.
“My name is Lord Morgorth.” I was proud of the steadiness of my own voice.
He chuckled. I saw the emerald hanging from a chain around his neck. It was set in a circle of gold. It would be hell trying to take it from him.
“You always had spirit.” My father shook his head, an eerie light in his dark eyes. “I hate spirit. It’s so much trouble to break.”
I shot a fist of pure force at him. To my astonishment and dismay, he batted it away like he would a child’s ball. It was the stone. Dear Mother, he’d nearly mastered the stone! He wouldn’t be hasty and prideful like Kayl had been. He wouldn’t be half-mad like Drasyln. No, he was cool, calculating. I wouldn’t be able to use brute force against him. The stone would eventually turn on him. They always did. They knew nothing of loyalty. But how much pain could he cause before that happened? I straightened and lowered my arms a fraction. I was the mage. He wasn’t. I knew more about magick than he did. I would win this.
My father’s gaze flickered from me, to Aishe, then back to me. He raised an eyebrow. “I heard rumors you’d chosen a mate. Then I saw it with my own eyes.
Pitiful. Really, Son, a male dialen? Useless creatures. You would have done better to ally yourself with a noble seela family.”
It was fucking creepy to think he’d been watching us.
“My choice, Lazur,” I said. “A choice you tried to take away from me.”
“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled. I felt slightly queasy. “You were my great hope. But you disappointed me greatly. And now I have Ellegrech.” He touched the emerald and smiled softly, his eyes oddly dreamy. “My great love. This was my true destiny, child. My true way to power.”
“Enjoy it while you have it,” I said, calculating spells I could use. “It won’t be yours for long.”
He laughed, obviously amused. His enjoyment of this confrontation unnerved me. He seemed to be working past his fear, now he thought this was part of his plan. He knew I’d come here after dealing with the lutin. He thought he was still in control. But his arrogance and confidence could also work to my advantage.
“You were always a bristly little mite. I wondered if you would fall for Derkun’s tale of a duel on the plains. It would have been amusing if you had. But I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad you’re here.”
That was a lie. “Are you? Really? But I didn’t follow your plan, Lazur. Again. I defied you, again. I humiliated you, again.”
He bared his teeth, his eyes flashing for a moment with hatred.
“You’re pathetic,” I said, scorn evident. Now was my chance, now was my moment to say what I always wanted to say to him. “You are a coward. A scared, petulant little child who wants to destroy the toys of others because you didn’t get them first!”
Lazur growled, his hands curling into fists. As I spoke, I realized the truth of my own words. As I insulted him, my fear began to fade. The image of him as some nightmarish demon dissolved and before me stood an old, tired, desperate male seela. A pathetic excuse for a child of the Mother. Greed was his god, and I doubted he’d ever felt love in his life. I wasn’t afraid anymore.
Dear Mother and Hunter... I wasn’t afraid.
