by C. M. Hayden
When Fenn set the wood in the pit, I took my inscriber and etched runes into the ground around it. It was a simple enchantment, even a skilled recruit could’ve done it, but it wasn’t one that was taught very often. I found it in an old survival book in the Librarium. It simply converted all of the water into oxygen, hydrogen, and diffused the energy discharge.
When I activated the runes, they glowed white and a sudden burst of hot steam erupted from the wood, all at once. Within seconds they were dry as bones.
There must’ve been some chemical leftover from the bog-water, because when I set a spark from my fingertips to the wood, it practically exploded into flames. There was very little smoke, too.
We tied Rokan to a tree. He made a jerking motion, and seemed to indicate that he wanted us to remove his gag and blindfold. I settled on removing the gag, but left the blindfold.
“Yes?” I said in an overly snide tone.
“Water,” he said, his throat hoarse.
Kadia went to hand him her waterskin, but Fenn raised his arm, stopping her mid-step.
“Let’s not waste rations on him,” Fenn said.
“Please,” Rokan begged.
Kadia looked at Fenn, then at me, her eyes like saucers. I thought about it, then sighed. “Give him a bit.”
Fenn looked at me like I was crazy. I countered with a hard glare of my own. “We can’t let him die of dehydration,” I said.
“The human body can survive a few days without water,” Fenn retorted. “You say killing him isn’t an option. Okay, I’ll deal. But we gain nothing by keeping him healthy and strong. If he somehow escapes, it’ll make it that much more difficult for us.”
I ignored the comment, and at my ushering, Kadia brought him the water.
“Not too much though,” I said.
After a few sips, Rokan cleared his throat. “I wasn’t going to hurt Kadia,” he said. “It was a bluff. I just needed to get out of there.”
“Why were you so far from your team?” I asked.
“Dia sent me and Perish ahead. Instead of facing the other teams head-on, we’d pick off the one holding their team’s key. I thought Kadia had it.”
“Not a bad plan,” Fenn said honestly.
“Well, it backfired nicely.”
Kurian looked up at the two moons peeking through the treetops. “We should eat and get some rest. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”
“I’ll take second shift,” I said. “We’ll do it in two-hour spans. We leave at first light.”
Obviously, dinner wasn’t anything special, just Magisterium rations. Most artificers hated them, but I found them quite to my taste. Being royalty, I was used to extravagant meals and dozens of servants bringing the finest cuisine. I never cared for it, and there was something quite nice about a quick, simple meal.
Magisterium rations came sealed in a lacquered envelope, with a waxy seal on the outside. They could keep for weeks in a variety of environments, were easy to store, and were relatively cheap to distribute to combat troops on the battlefield.
Inside was a mix of dried meat, rice, beans, and vegetables with seasoning. The packaging had some sort of enchantment on the inner lining that made it nonflammable, so all you had to do was add water, seal, and shake the contents. After that, you placed it in the fire for ten minutes or so, and as easy as that, you had a hot meal.
There weren’t many varieties, though. I’d only ever seen a total of three. Still, they were handy to have around and beat foraging or hunting.
While my food cooked, I laid my head on my travel pack and stared up at the stars. I heard Kurian walk over to me and turned to see him sit on an overturned log. “Want to trade?” he asked, holding out some of his ration packs. “Do you have any of the fruit kind?”
I did, actually, and I fished through my pack and handed them to him.
“Don’t like beef?” I asked.
“I don’t eat meat,” Kurian said.
“Oh,” I said absently. “Is that a dragon thing?”
“No, dragons love meat; those fangs aren’t for carving up carrots. Maybe it’s a half-breed thing.”
“Why do you do that to yourself,” I said.
“Do what?” he asked.
“Put yourself down. You do it a lot.”
Kurian looked through some of the rations packs I’d given him as he spoke, shuffling them like cards. “Sorry, it’s habit at this point. When I lived in Castiana, I had to take a lot of verbal abuse. Back then, joking about it made it easier to deal with.”
I sat up, as it seemed he had more to say, and listened intently.
“Dragons aren’t the friendliest of creatures,” he continued. “They’re xenophobic and utterly convinced of their superiority. Mixing blood with humans is…distasteful to them. And because I’m unable to change forms or fly, I’m a rather visual reminder of the outside world. Maybe they could’ve put up with me, if I looked like them. But, I’m stuck in this body, just like the rest of humanity.”
“That’s sad,” I said lamely.
“I’ve come to terms with it. Antherion says it’s all mental, that my dragon form is just hiding deep inside me, waiting to come out. I guess I just don’t want it badly enough.”
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think…I think he’s just being nice. I know what I am, and what I’m not.”
Kurian returned to his area and sat his back against an ash tree.
I turned away, and caught a glimpse of Kadia and Rokan out the corner of my eye. Kadia was sitting near him, a sword propped up on a rock nearby. She was leafing through the book we’d found. Soon, without realizing it, I dozed off.
I can’t say why, but I didn’t sleep for long. It might’ve been an hour, but honestly it felt like my eyelids barely touched. When I opened them, Kadia and Rokan were gone. I fought the urge to scramble to my feet. I heard something, a voice in the air. It was undoubtedly Kadia’s, but there was something odd about it, almost like she was singing. I slowly got to my feet and crept toward the sound.
I turned a bend around a rock face and spotted Kadia and Rokan not far off. Rokan was still tied up, but laying on the ground with a look of abject horror in his eyes. He had been gagged again and wasn’t speaking. Kadia had a terrible grin on her face; it was almost manic and showed all of her very white teeth in an almost unnatural way.
Rokan gave a muffled noise that sounded like ‘please’.
“Listen,” she said, her normal quiet voice had melted away, and I could feel the white-hot anger smoldering inside her. Even from where I stood several yards away, I could feel that her templar had changed somehow, it was like standing beside an open oven. She straddled Rokan, and sat on his chest. “I realize you can’t know this, so I’m going to give you a fair warning. Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me. Again. I’ll kill you, your family, everyone you’ve ever known or cared about.”
She raised one hand, and thick, ink-like shadows crept up her fingertips. Though it was dark, and there were many shadows around her, these seemed different. They weren’t natural, and almost appeared to be a part of her body. She touched one of the shadows to Rokan’s cheek and ran it like a knife to his ear. It left a long, sharp cut and some blood trickled down.
Kadia licked her lips. “I realize I got the shit team, there’s no denying that. But here’s the thing.” She leaned in to his ear. “It’s not your turn to be a magister this year. It’s mine. And I can’t afford delays.”
There was a rustle in the foliage nearby, and Kadia’s eyes snapped toward it. It was nowhere near me, however, and I was curious, too.
The noise was loud, much too loud to be a critter or snake. Kadia stood and inched toward the line of trees. The light of the moons reflected against the swamp mists, and I saw the massive silhouette of a creature, looming between two crooked trees.
My first impression of the shadowy creature was that it was a black bear; I knew from my Bestiary lessons that they were no strangers to wetlands and marshes, on oc
casion. But the silhouette was…wrong. There were far too many limbs, each twisted in an unnatural way, far too many eyes, and far too many teeth. What looked like tendrils wriggled out of its body.
The beast charged, and as it passed through the starlight, I saw that it really was a bear, but it was horrific and mutilated in such a way that it should not have been alive. There were bulges in its patchy fur such that it moved like a bag stuffed with snakes. I didn’t have much time to dwell, as it was heading right for Kadia and Rokan, snarling and snapping like a rabid dog.
I’d left one of my smaller packs on when I’d slept. It was attached to my upper leg and held three of the flash grenades I’d built. I took one, turned the top around a full rotation, and threw it between Kadia and the creature. She recognized what it was immediately and turned away, with her forearm shielding her face.
The flash grenade erupted in a blinding light that, for a brief moment, seemed to illuminate the entire swamp. It was much more intense than I’d expected and much louder. Somewhere in the back of my mind I thought, another team is sure to have seen that. At that moment, however, my attentions were focused on the creature. It wailed and reared onto its hind legs. It had taken the flash directly, but I could only guess what, if any, effect it would have.
The beast stumbled around dumbly, knocking into trees and rocks, wobbling on its mange-covered legs. Thick tendrils ripped out of its back, flailing wildly. It roared, groaned, then fell forward into the muck. It seemed to be out cold; its eyes were shut, and it didn’t make any noises. However, the tendrils continued to move under and over its skin.
It seemed safe for the moment, so I ran to Kadia. “Are you okay?” I said, panting.
She looked shell-shocked but otherwise unharmed. “I think so.”
“What happened?” Rokan said, still blindfolded. I ignored him and approached the creature, to get a better look at it.
It was no surprise that Kurian and Fenn showed up mere moments later, their swords drawn and looking ready for a fight. They found me kneeling beside the monster.
“Kyra!” Fenn shouted. “Get away from it!”
I glanced sideways at him. “I think it’s dead.”
“It’s still moving,” Fenn said.
Kurian walked closer and plunged his sword into the creature’s skull. It didn’t move, but the tendrils coming from its body continued to flop around.
I touched one of them with my forefinger, and it left a sticky residue on my skin. I rubbed it with my thumb and grimaced. “I don’t think these are a part of it. It’s like…like a parasite infecting it.”
“What the hell happened?” Fenn said.
“It tried to attack Kadia. I threw one of the flash grenades at it,” I said, standing.
“That killed it?” Kurian said.
I shook my head. “I think it was dying anyway.” I paused. “Have you ever seen anything like this?”
Kurian gave me a serious look. “Never.”
“It must be a part of the trial,” Fenn offered.
“Maybe,” I said, not sounding especially confident. “But a machine couldn’t cause this. Even one made by the Old Gods.”
We all exchanged unsure looks, before our eyes returned to the dead creature.
“So?” Fenn said sharply.
“So?” I repeated.
Fenn rolled his eyes. “So, what do we do? You’re the team leader, remember? What if there are more of these things out there?”
“There are,” Kurian said.
“How can you be sure?” I asked.
Kurian’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I can hear them.”
“You didn’t feel this was worth mentioning earlier?” Fenn said.
“I didn’t know what the sounds were before. I thought maybe they were just animals. I didn’t want to alarm anybody.”
Fenn crossed his arms. “Whelp, I’m alarmed. And there is no chance that flash went off unnoticed. We can’t stay here.”
I thought about it for a long moment before deciding. “Fenn’s right. No more sleep, we need to move, now.”
- 12 -
The Lost
“Stop,” Kurian said. He didn’t say it in a particularly loud voice, but his tone was so forceful that I froze mid-step. We’d been walking along the roots of the World Tree for hours at this point, Kurian a few paces ahead of us. He crouched, and I saw that he was examining the body of an alligator. It was about three feet long, probably not fully grown. Its scales had burst open, and tendrils were wriggling out of its body.
Aside from the bear earlier, this was the third animal we’d found in such a state. All of those had been dead. All corrupted. Kurian examined the alligator closely, found it to be dead, too, and signaled for us to continue.
“I’d love to get a piece of one to the Magisterium,” Kadia said. Her voice was meek and quiet again. “With proper equipment, it’d be easier to tell what happened to them.”
I hadn’t forgot about the sharp change in her demeanor when she’d spoken to Rokan, but I simply chalked it up to her being upset at being captured. In any case, I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary tension. After all, she hadn’t exactly done anything wrong.
I hurried ahead to walk beside Kurian, no easy task as he was as light on his feet as ever.
“We’re being followed,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Kurian said casually. “Whoever it is, they’re injured.”
“How can you tell?” I asked.
“I can smell the blood,” Kurian said, momentarily peering over his shoulder. “I don’t think they’re here to attack us.”
We stopped, causing Fenn and Kadia to pause as well.
I turned to look into the darkness. “We know you’re there,” I shouted.
A long moment passed, and a small figure limped out of the trees. It was Dia, all alone. Her right sleeve was ripped off, and her arm was bleeding profusely. She stumbled forward, hardly able to remain standing.
When I started toward her to help, Fenn tried to stop me. “It might be a trick,” he said.
I shoved him aside and held her up by the arm. “Are you okay?”
Her face was bloody, and her words came out thick and hoarse. “Sorry. I wasn’t sure if it got to you.”
“If what got to us?” I asked, giving her a drink from my waterskin.
“They’re dead. Both of them, Amary and Perish,” she said. “It was some kind of monster.”
Rokan began to struggle against his restraints; he seemed to want to speak. I pulled down his gag and undid his blindfold. “This isn’t right,” he said. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Final trials are brutal, that’s true. Sometimes an artificer dies. But it’s never like this. The Magisterium would never put us in this situation so unprepared.”
“Unless they didn’t know,” I said.
“We need to get back to the village. We need to tell Magister Ross,” Rokan said.
“It’s a trick,” Fenn said, sounding remarkably sure of himself. “They’re trying to keep us from finishing. Cidrin probably kicked their team’s ass, and now they’re trying to pass it off as something else.”
Kurian shook his head, grimacing. “You saw those animals back there.”
Fenn held up his hand with his thumb and forefinger pressed together. He motioned to me and Kurian as if we were small children. “It would take us over twenty hours to get back to the monastery from here. If there is some sort of monster, we’re much better off going forward and finishing. When we’re done, the airship will pick us up, right?”
Kurian was going to protest, but I stopped him.
“Fenn’s right,” I said quickly. “Going back isn’t an option. I have to believe the Magisterium knew about all this, beforehand, and it’s just a part of the trial.”
“There’s just no way,” Rokan said, shaking his head.
“You two are free to head back if you want,” I said, then turned my
attention to Dia and held out my hand. “Your key, please.”
Without hesitation, Dia dug into her front uniform pocket and slapped her team’s key into my open hand. “Take it. I don’t care anymore.”
It was a sun key. Perfect. I took it without hesitation.
“Going back to the village is suicide,” Dia said. “Can we stay with you?”
“Another mouth to eat up our rations,” Fenn blustered. “Kyra, we can’t take on all this dead weight. We have limited supplies, limited food, limited—”
I held one hand up. “I know,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended. I took a hunting knife from my pack and cut Rokan loose. “But we’re not leaving them alone to die.”
It was no secret that Fenn didn’t have much respect for anyone but himself. The look he gave me as we continued on with Dia and Rokan spoke volumes. The worst part was that he was probably right; keeping them around wasn’t the smartest move. They were a drain on resources. They slowed us down. It was very possible it was a trap, and at any moment Perish and Amary would ambush us.
In the end, as much as I hate to admit it sometimes, I’m my father’s daughter. I’d like to think that counts for something. I simply couldn’t leave them. If that meant I’d fail the trial, then I’d fail. If that meant I’d die, then I’d die.
I remember the stories you used to tell me, Uncle, of our ancestors and the old Sun Kings. The greats like Thoros, Aldor, and Godric. My grandfathers. Men whose courage was undeniable, who’d rush, headfirst, into a line of spearmen without a twinge of fear. Men who fought against gods and monsters and dragons and demons. Men who shaped the world itself. They wouldn’t have backed down. They wouldn’t have abandoned anyone.
I pushed ahead toward the base of Syseril, more determined than ever, but I wasn’t prepared for what I found.
I know kings and queens have to order men to their deaths, sometimes. That’s the way of things. I thought I was ready to make those kinds of decisions. I couldn’t have been more wrong.
