Spots danced before his eyes. The colors resembled the stars from the Otherworld, but it wasn’t the same at all. Talinir was obsessed with this? What did Aelia have to worry about? Disappointing, to say the least.
The beam crossed his eye again. In that instant, his senses exploded. The spots became bolder, more colorful, stronger. At the same time, he felt a rising sense of elation. For no reason he could understand, his mouth split into a huge grin. His hand dropped to his side, but he no longer needed the light. A bright glow filled his vision, not quite the same as the starlight of the Otherworld, but not sunlight, either.
His elation grew, moment by moment. His breath came in ragged gasps that came faster and faster. His hands began to shake, but it wasn’t the familiar shaking of his magic. His legs began twitching too.
He felt liquid of some kind entering his throat. He couldn’t tell whether it was drainage from sudden congestion or something else. His rapid breathing became harder and harder as the liquid built up within. Choking. Gagging. But at the same time, he felt pleasure, raw and powerful, shaking his whole body.
A tiny voice screaming inside his brain warned of the magnitude of his danger. If this didn’t end or he didn’t roll over soon, he would stop breathing entirely. No blade-spell would protect him from that. And yet he didn’t want anything to change. It felt so good.
The one rational part of his mind pushed back. He gurgled and felt liquid running out of his open mouth and down the side of his face. But no air entered. With no control over his body, Marshal did the only thing he could think of: he tried to focus his magic into his right palm. He moved his mouth again and again, trying to get air and failing. His brain overloaded with conflicting feelings of pleasure and desperation.
His eyes started to go dark. The dancing spots of light had vanished. With no air, he fought for consciousness.
Power erupted from his right hand into the ground. The force of it flipped his body into the air, rolling over and over. He smacked into a small tree and flipped the other way, somehow ending up face down.
His entire torso convulsed. Hot, horrible-tasting liquid poured from his mouth. He sucked in a rush of damp air only to vomit again. The process repeated itself until he had nothing left inside. But at least he could breathe again. He was alive.
He had no idea how long he lay there, his nose and cheek lying in his own vomit. Eventually, he regained enough strength and control to roll over. He lay still, looking up at the real stars and the moon, taking comfort in the air that flowed in and out of his body.
What had gone wrong? Talinir didn’t have that kind of trouble. Maybe the drug worked differently on humans than it did on Eldanim. Or maybe he had used the wrong amount. That had been a pretty big drop. Maybe if he used a smaller drop…
His rational side screamed at him. Was he insane? Try that again? Only a complete fool would do that!
And yet… he still felt a warm, soothing but fading pleasure. For a little while, it had felt so good. Nothing else had mattered. It was wonderful. Powerful. Exciting. Maybe he should try it again.
It wasn’t the same. He slammed his fist against the ground. It wasn’t what he wanted. It was pleasure, and it gave him a taste, yes, but it didn’t even touch the ache in his chest that happened when he thought of the stars of the Otherworld. It was a poor, poor substitute for the real thing. Tears sprang into his eyes, but he couldn’t tell if they were tears of disappointment, frustration, or anticipation of trying again.
Because he would try again. There was no getting around it. If he could recapture that feeling again, even for a moment, wasn’t it worth it?
A soft footstep came beside him. Marshal blinked several times and looked up at the face of Talinir.
“Oh, Marshal. I am so, so sorry.”
•••••
Talinir picked up the starshine pouch. Marshal felt a sudden, irrational desire to leap to his feet and wrestle it out of the warden’s hands. Instead, he sighed and closed his eyes. His whole body felt painful and drained.
To his surprise, Talinir sat down on the grass beside him. He opened his eyes and looked up. Talinir’s face radiated sadness.
“I wondered,” he said. “I wondered what effect your healing would have on you. You saw the stars there, didn’t you?”
Marshal nodded.
Talinir let out a long breath. “You will probably never forget that sight. You feel it here.” He patted his own chest. “Like I told your mother, I can see it even now.” He pointed at his right eye. “If I close my left eye, it is all I can see. But it is no real comfort. It’s not the same as being there, experiencing it, feeling the light of the stars play across your skin.”
He held up the pouch. “Neither is this the same. It doesn’t give the same experience, not even close. As I’m sure you now realize.”
Marshal pulled himself into a sitting position. He spat, trying to get some of the bad taste out of his mouth.
“I don’t know what effect the starshine has on a human, let alone one of your unique situation.” He glanced around at the mess. “I’m guessing it didn’t end very well.”
Nod is yes? No. Wait. That wasn’t right.
“But I’m also guessing that it felt really good, at least for a while. And you probably want to try it again.”
Marshal looked up at him, feeling a twinge of hope. Maybe Talinir could tell him how much to use.
Talinir looked at the pouch in his hand, then tucked into a pocket somewhere that Marshal couldn’t see. “If I have any say in it, that will not happen.”
Marshal scowled.
“Trust me. I think I know how you feel. I’ve been there. My first experience with starshine wasn’t much different from this.” Talinir looked back toward the fire where Victor and Aelia still slept. “I would never tell your mother this, but I wish I could quit. I don’t want to keep using this stuff.
“And yet I keep doing it. I can’t stop. I’m trapped.”
Talinir’s voice held a vulnerability Marshal had never heard before. Usually, the warden sounded commanding, even during casual conversation. Now, there was sadness, even pain, in his words.
“I keep doing it because it feels good, at least for a while. When I come down from it, it feels horrible and I hate myself. But I keep doing it, anyway.”
Marshal looked at Talinir’s face. He kept looking down, his regular eye unfocused.
“I say I keep it around because it helps with healing when I suffer an Otherworldly wound, and that’s partially true. But it’s not the real reason. I do it because I would do anything, anything to be there again. To feel the joy, the beauty of the stars. But I am a warden, sworn to defend both worlds, but doomed to stay in this one. It is an honor, a great responsibility, and a curse. And so I use starshine. And I hate myself for it.”
Talinir finally looked at Marshal. His gaze from his regular eye was piercing, but it still held pain within.
“I don’t want that for you, Marshal. I don’t want you to feel this way too.”
Marshal wanted to rage. What difference would it make? He already hated himself for so many reasons. Why not enjoy a little bit of pleasure where he could find it? His life was horrible.
“I’ll do a better job at keeping this in a place where you can’t find it. I know you’ll try again, because I would. But you won’t succeed.”
Talinir got slowly to his feet.
“I won’t tell the others. But I’ll take it easy the next couple of days. I won’t push us too hard. I know you won’t be feeling well. The desire is going to be really strong. But you can get over it.”
He paused.
“You’ll get over it, because there won’t be any other choice.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ONE BY ONE, the Lords sent messages confirming the new date of the Passing and announcing the dates of their arrival. Some would be arriving over a week before the actual date, while others would wait until only a few days in advance. Master Hain confirmed this was n
ormal.
“Many other things happen besides the Passing itself,” he told Seri. “Zes Sivas is the only true neutral spot in Antises. While the Lords are here, they negotiate new trade agreements, resolve diplomatic disputes, and so on.”
One afternoon, as Seri practiced some new tricks with water, Master Plecu entered the room. He glanced at her actions, but didn’t seem to see her. His eyes darted about and a ring of sweat circled the back of his head. He approached Master Hain with shaky movements.
“I have received word from Lord Tyrr regarding the Passing,” he said.
Hain frowned. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no.” Plecu took a deep, shuddering breath. “The opposite, in fact. He will be arriving three to four days in advance, as we might expect. And he is bringing someone with him.”
Seri stopped pretending to practice and listened.
Plecu’s face erupted into a nervous smile. “Lord Tyrr has found the lost King!”
Master Hain stood unmoving for a moment. “I assume there is proof of this claim?” he asked at last.
“The young man in question is able to give satisfactory answers for the movements of his family over the past three generations,” Plecu said, his excitement growing.
“Anyone can fabricate a story.”
“Hain, he–” Plecu broke off and almost seemed to dance in place. “He was able to create the Heart of Fire!”
“On his own? Without assistance?”
“That is what the message says.” Plecu gripped Master Hain’s arms. “This is it! The solution to all of our problems! At last the King is returning!”
The two Masters exchanged more hurried and excited words. At least Plecu’s were excited. Master Hain seemed more muted and cautious. Seri returned to her practice, her thoughts a jumble. Eventually, Master Plecu left. Master Hain found a chair and settled into it with a deep sigh.
“Master? Do you doubt the news?” Seri asked.
He glanced up, as if startled to see her still there. He chuckled and waved dismissively.
“I don’t know, quite honestly. There have been other claims before. Men who lusted for the power, or Lords seeking an advantage over their neighbors. Or a combination of both.”
“But… the Heart of Fire? Could anyone else do that?”
“I don’t know. I do not think so, but there are many things in this world that surprise me.”
“Wild magic, perhaps?”
Master Hain looked up. “There has never been an instance of wild magic powerful enough for that. If it is a fake of some kind, I think the answer lies somewhere else. Still, I would not rule anything out just yet.”
Seri sat on another chair. “Rasna is an odd location. Somehow, I expected that if the King were ever found, he would be hiding in some exotic, hard-to-reach place, like beyond the desert of Mandiata or something.”
“That is perhaps the one aspect of this that troubles me the most.”
“Really? Why?”
“The most divisive argument between any of the Lords right now is between Rasna and Varioch,” Master Hain said. He steepled his fingers. “They are close to outright war over a large stretch of land on the border between the two.”
“What makes this land so important?”
“It is mostly farmland, though there is a river that runs through it. Some rumors say that gold or some other valuable was found in the river. I do not know if that is the truth, however. It seems more likely that the border is just an excuse. The two lands have never gotten along, and their current Lords are the most aggressive either has had in some time. If they do not reach an agreement here in a few weeks, I believe it will likely lead to war.”
Seri sat back, stunned. War between two of the lands was practically unheard of. There had been a few small battles in the early days, soon after the lands’ establishment, when the people were new to Antises. Barbarians from beyond the Great Plains had invaded twice, but that was hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Kuktarma and Arazu had once fought back and forth over a collection of mines on their border. While it had lasted for a few decades, it had never erupted into full-scale war.
“That is why this new King could easily be a play for power from Lord Tyrr, to give him an advantage of Varioch.” Master Hain seemed to be speaking his thoughts now, rather than explaining to her. “Assuming he is not real, it could not be proved until the actual day of the Passing, most likely. And if he can form the Heart of Fire, maybe not even then. That would give Tyrr time to demand a negotiated settlement. Lord Varion would have difficulty putting him off. But…” He trailed off.
“If he truly is the King, the dispute between the two Lands will be nothing. He could resolve it with a word, once he’s coronated. But that would also take time. Would Tyrr be willing to wait that long? So many questions. So many questions.”
Master Hain looked up again and blinked. “Shouldn’t you be practicing?”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
THE NEWS OF the coming King changed the entire atmosphere of Zes Sivas. Ever since the earthquake, a nervousness had hung over everyone. With the second Master’s death, that nervousness had erupted into full blown paranoia and despair. But now? Now hope had sprung up again.
Master Hain immediately sent a letter to Lord Enuru, which he dictated to Seri. He delivered the news as he had received it, and outlined his own suspicions and concerns. For all of that, Seri couldn’t help but hope he was wrong. If the King had returned, then all could be made right again. The Passing would restore all that the land needed. The petty schemes of the Lords would be set aside as they had a new authority to govern them.
At least, that was the hope. The Lords would probably not be so accommodating, outside of Lord Tyrr of Rasna. Over the next few days, Seri heard this topic endlessly debated. While she practiced, Master Hain entertained a series of visitors including Curasir, the other three Masters, and a concerned group of apprentices. Some worried Lord Tyrr would now be the true power in Antises and this new King, legitimate or not, would merely be his puppet. Others thought Lord Varion would immediately declare war when he heard.
Seri doubted that last one. After all, news spread fast once it was released on Zes Sivas. The messaging system, a secret held only by the Masters and a select group of trained apprentices, reached all six lands in a swift manner that defied logic. By now, Lord Varion would have already heard the news, and as far as anyone knew, war had not begun yet.
Dravid improved on a daily basis. He found the news to be thrilling. Seri delighted in seeing him return to his old self, for the most part. Waves of pain and anguish still swept his face every so often when he thought she wasn’t watching. But most of the time, his smile returned to his face. It was a huge relief. Whether the new King proved to be real or not, Seri was deeply grateful to him for that alone.
Jamana, oddly enough, behaved the most skeptical of them all. He refused to believe. “Even if this is the true King,” he said, “it matters not. Our lives will not change. You should take note of my words.”
“I will,” Dravid retorted. “And when the day comes, you will confess to me how wrong you were.”
Curasir’s reaction was not quite what Seri anticipated. He seemed delighted at the news. He enthused to Master Hain, rejoicing that the rift of Zes Sivas would soon be healed. “With the power of all the Lords and the King, stability will return,” he proclaimed. “Once this happens, perhaps we can heal the rift between men and Eldanim, as well.”
“You have high hopes,” Master Hain said.
“I am a positive thinker,” Curasir said. “I have not the gift of prophecy, but I envision a new age of peace and prosperity for both our peoples.”
“Of all of us, you were the last one I expected to be so excited.”
“Why should I not? You know how much the failing magic has worried me. At last, it will be healed. This will be wonderful.”
Seri listened to all of the conversations, but contributed little. For once in her life, she did
n’t feel like expressing her own opinion much. Her growing magical prowess had consumed so much of her focus and even her emotions. The more she used the power, the more she gained control of it, the more confident she felt. At times, though, her emotions seemed to take on the properties of the magic she used. When she used beams of light from higher on the color spectrum, she found her emotions getting stronger, more passionate. Colors on the lower end of the spectrum seemed to depress her.
With so much going on inside her head, both mentally and emotionally, she couldn’t bring herself to argue anything. It required too much effort. Her letters to her parents grew more brief. Every night, she collapsed in her bed, exhausted but continuously thrilled.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
MARSHAL WAS SICK for three days. He hid the reason for it from Aelia, but not the symptoms. He couldn’t hide his weakness and nausea. Fortunately, he had a built-in excuse. Throughout his life, he had always been susceptible to sickness of all kinds. All part of the curse, he assumed. One more sickness, more or less, was not all that surprising.
Still, this one baffled Aelia. It did not resemble any specific illnesses she recognized. In the end, she concluded it must have been caused by something Marshal ate. A piece of spoiled fruit, perhaps.
Marshal felt tortured. He wanted the starshine. His eyes drifted to Talinir’s pack every few minutes. He knew the warden had hidden it somewhere, but that didn’t stop him from concocting dozens of ridiculous ideas to separate Talinir from his pack long enough to search it. In some of the plans, he even enlisted Victor’s help, though how he could communicate such a plan never occurred to him. Even as he thought it, he knew it was pointless. But that didn’t stop the thoughts.
It wasn’t even the same as wishing to be back in the Otherworld. That was a call on his heart, and always would be. This, however, called to his senses. It called to his mind. He wanted it. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.
Until All Curses Are Lifted Page 26
