by C. M. Hayden
“You’re coming with me,” Cidrin said.
Vexis checked her pocket watch again and sighed. “Listen boys, I really don’t have time for this.”
Several people moved to stand between them and Vexis. Two of them were children.
“You’ve got no place here,” one of the adults said to Cidrin.
Cidrin’s stone face didn’t waver. Taro wanted to beg them to move. This may have been their first time actually seeing a magister in the flesh. Perhaps they’d heard stories about them, but none could understand how outmatched they were. A magister of Cidrin’s caliber was a human weapon and could kill every man, woman, and child there.
“I don’t wish to hurt any of you,” he said, “but if you don’t stand aside, then you give me no choice.”
Vexis stayed put, as did most of the people between her and Cidrin’s entourage.
Cidrin tilted his hands and everyone in front of him was struck with an unseen force. Taro felt like he’d just had a boulder drop onto his back and collapsed onto the stone pavement. Children cried and adults cursed and tried to get to their feet, only for Cidrin to force them back down.
Cidrin’s templar was like a vice grip, but Vexis was unaffected. She casually strolled toward him. “Listen Cid. Can I call you Cid?” She motioned toward the people. “I think they get the point.”
“They can join you in the Blocks,” Cidrin said.
Vexis pointed to a little girl. “You’re going to stick her in a cell?”
“If you come willingly, I’ll rethink it.”
Taro tilted his head and focused on keeping his lungs going.
Vexis cracked her knuckles and solid shadows coalesced at her feet, like pools of oil. When she pointed her hand, the shadow wrapped around Cidrin, like a snake. She pulled him into the air and smashed him into his warder entourage.
Cidrin’s control over the crowd disappeared when he struck the pavement. Vexis smashed Cidrin into the side of Leorin’s wagon, and it momentarily lifted onto its hind wheels. Finally, she slammed him into the slush and her shadows spread to his neck.
“Thank you,” she said wickedly.
The shadows crept closer to Cidrin’s mouth. “For what?”
Vexis pressed her foot to his chest. “For showing them your true colors.”
“If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”
“No. Today, you live.” Vexis addressed the few people left watching. “For those of you that don’t know, magistry is the power in the written word, and templary is channeled through the hands. Do you know what that means?”
A look of horror swept across Cidrin’s eyes, and a series of loud cracks rang through the air intermixed with screaming. When the shadows slithered off him, his hands were limp. Vexis broke every bone from the wrist down.
She pecked him on the cheek, as he sobbed. “It’s okay, Cid. Let it all out.”
By the time more magisters arrived, Vexis was long gone. Taro wasn’t sure he understood her. At times, she seemed to have a defined goal, and other times she seemed to just delight in causing chaos.
Something didn’t sit right with him. There was more to this than a jailbreak. More to this than fixing the Arclight. Vexis was up to something, and Taro was going to find out what it was.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Into the Tombs
The weeks passed without any sightings of Vexis. Rumors abound of how she’d valiantly defended a group of kids from a vicious magister; and each time he heard the story, her heroism was more pronounced.
While the rumors were a curiosity, Vexis being at large had little impact on Taro’s day-to-day life. In some ways, he was freer than ever. As a full artificer, he could go practically anywhere in the Magisterium and browse any book in the Librarium. Work at the foundry had even become bearable. The overseer had long moved him from the furnace to hauling freight. It was exhausting work, but at least it kept him in the cool, open air.
Returning Moira’s book was a peace offering he was happy to give. Now that he had artificer-level access to books, including past records, he intended to use it to find out more about Vexis.
The Librarium was always busy. Pages rustled and pens scribbled over hushed whispers. Moira sat on her perch, enclosed by a circular desk. It was piled high with books, ledgers, and labels.
He approached Moira’s desk and stood with his head low and his hands at his side, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She continued to scratch in her ledger and, when she presumably got to the end of a sentence, placed her pen in an inkwell.
“Yes?” She tilted her glasses and stared down at him. “Ah, Taro. Long time, no see.”
“Sorry to bother you.” He placed The Witch of the Well onto the desktop.
Moira turned it to face her, and leafed through the pages.
“It’s just as you gave it to me,” Taro said.
“Yes, I’m sure Mr. Leek takes excellent care of his merchandise.” That stung, but Taro knew he deserved far worse than a biting comment. “Better late than never, I suppose.”
Moira went back to writing. It seemed to take her a few moments before she realized Taro was still there. “Is there something else?”
“I need some help tracking down some information.”
“Fiction or non-fiction?”
“Historical ledgers on past artificers.”
She raised a thin, curling eyebrow. Taro expected her to ask why and was doing his best to concoct some excuse about a historical assignment, but Moira didn’t seem to care.
“I’m afraid those are held in the Tombs.”
“The Tombs?”
“Underground storage,” she clarified. “First-year artificers are not permitted there alone.”
“Could you come with me, then?”
Moira seemed surprised by the request, as if no one had ever asked her such an audacious thing.
She stood and opened the door to her circular desk. “Follow me.” She led him to a deep staircase locked off with a wrought-iron gate, and unlocked it with a long, skeleton key.
The staircase descended into complete darkness. On the wall beside the stairs were iron hooks with hanging brass lanterns. The lamps had no oil or wicks, only a scribbled enchant, running along the oblong side and up the teacup handle.
The Tombs went on for miles. They passed through endless corridors with more books than Taro had ever seen in his life, with more books than he could read in a thousand years, from every century and on every subject. Finally, they reached their destination.
“Registrar records.” Moira held her lantern up to a rusted, iron door. Inside were folders stuffed with parchment. “Which records are you specifically interested in?”
“Two years ago. A girl named Vexis.”
Moira almost dropped her lamp. Her frown dipped lower, but she did not speak. The records were arranged the year they were added. Moira leafed through the section until she found one marked Trial 3118 N.E. 14 pass, 121 fail.
Each of the sixty-three, first-year recruits that year had their own file. It listed their name, known family, marks from their instructors, and how they’d done in their trial. They were in reverse alphabetical order, and he passed Ven, Suri, and many others before he got to Vexis Andurin.
Her file was fairly ordinary, it noted her as a bright Helian recruit with high marks in templary and alchemy. She, too, had gotten a gold aurom and passed her first trial that same year.
Now, staring at the paper, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d hoped to find.
“Can I check this out?” Taro said.
“Only a commissioned magister may check a book out from the Tombs.”
Taro placed the ledger back into place. As they tracked back through the pitch black Tombs, Moira seemed rather unsettled.
“Listen,” Taro said, “I know I shouldn’t have done what I did, but—"
“It isn’t that.” She stopped. “I make it a point to never question an information request. But this is the second time I’ve been ask
ed to look up records on another student. And the last person to ask me to do so was the girl you just tried to look up.”
“Vexis asked you to look up information on another student?”
Moira nodded. “Two years ago, almost to the day.”
“You met her back then. Did she seem off?”
Moira’s frown sank lower. “No. She was a bubbly, energetic little one. Annoyingly so. She wanted information on her sister.”
“Sister?” Taro’s voice echoed through the Tombs.
“An artificer named Kadia. She trialed four years ago. What happened to her was a shame.”
“Did she die?”
“No. She’s very much alive...or, at least, what’s left of her. As I understand it, she simply stopped showing up for classes. We received a note from her doctor saying she wouldn’t be renewing her term.”
“A doctor?”
“Yes, one of the attending physicians at the hospital on Varin Road.” She rubbed her chin. “Dr. Halric was his name.”
The name sent a shiver down Taro’s body. He didn’t say a word.
A spec of light shined from the end of the corridor. The stairs were in sight, and Taro hurried toward them, anxious to get out of the stuffy crypt.
Taro lowered his voice and tried to look as humble as possible. “Thank you for your help.”
The records had brought up more questions than answers, but one thing was clear: Taro had to find Kadia Andurin.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Patient 41
When Moira said Kadia was in a hospital, Taro expected a clean, bustling building full of doctors and nurses, tending the sick. But this was no ordinary hospital.
The paint on the sign outside was faded, and rust obscured what once had read clear as day: Aldor’s Asylum for the Criminally Insane.
The asylum sat on a hill outside of more populated areas. Its three buildings formed a perfect triangle, and fourteen chimneys bellowed smoke into the frigid air. Its façade cracked, its shutters hung off their hinges, and its bricks crumbled onto a lawn piled high with snow.
A young nurse answered; she was a foot shorter than Taro, but at least ten years older.
“Yes?” she said, cracking the door just an inch. When she got a good look at him, she opened the door the rest of the way. “Magister?”
She apparently couldn’t tell the difference between a magister’s and an artificer’s uniform. He decided to use this to his advantage.
He puffed up his chest and tried to sound like he had some authority. “Is Dr. Halric in?”
“Dr. Bourne is attending right now. Shall I fetch him?”
“That won’t be necessary. I spoke with Halric a few days ago, and I’m here to see a Ms. Kadia Andurin about a new treatment we’ve been developing at the Magisterium.”
The nurse let Taro inside. The place was a dump; the ugly wallpaper peeled, and the floral carpet was dirty and frayed. The poor nurse looked horribly overworked, and her desk was overflowing with files and schedules.
She searched through them, speaking a mile a minute. “We haven’t had anyone from the Magisterium visit in years.”
As she gathered the records together, Taro approached the double doors opposite the reception desk. Muted screams and inane laughs filled the rooms on the other side.
“How many patients do you have here?”
“Forty-nine,” she said.
“How big’s your staff?”
“Six, not including the cleaners.”
“That doesn’t seem like much.”
“Tell me about it.” She finished her search and handed a bound stack of papers to Taro. “Here’s all we have on Kadia. She’s our youngest resident.”
The nurse opened the double doors and led Taro further into the asylum. Down the carpeted hall, another attendant pushed a wooden cart with empty food trays on it.
“Stand directly in the middle,” she said to Taro. “Getting too close to the doors can get some of them excited. You don’t want them throwing anything at you.”
“Like food?”
“Like what used to be food.”
Taro followed behind her in a perfect line. “Does Kadia get many visitors?”
“There used to be a girl that stopped by. Blonde hair, green eyes, very pretty. She was training to be a magister, so maybe she just got too busy with her workload.”
“Does Dr. Halric see her?”
“Oh yes, all the time. She’s his favorite patient. She’s quiet as a church mouse for a week after he visits.”
There was an eerie silence about the entire building, punctuated by patients hollering incoherently. They shouted through the tiny windows on their door. One man pleaded for them to let him out because his food was trying to eat him. One said that his skin was turning into bark and that he was taking root to the floor.
They seemed well cared for. They had plenty of food and their rooms were regularly cleaned. Kadia was in room 14C. Hanging on the door was various information about her. Her age (23), her name, and details on her psychosis. Her mother was listed as unknown, but her father was named Valros Andurin.
“Here we are, Patient 41. Will you need my assistance?”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“I’ll be across the hall, if you need anything.”
She placed the key to Kadia’s room into his hand before she left. The walls inside were bare stone, the furniture and fixtures had been removed, and there was only a thin mat for sleeping tucked away in the corner. Kadia faced the wall with her arms wrapped around her knees. She rocked back and forth, muttering to herself.
“Rattle the cage, snakes in the skin, down to the wire, the cage doesn’t end,” she rambled. “Doctor, doctor, doctor. Why doesn’t it understand? No life. No light. Nothing.”
Taro inched toward her. “Kadia,” he said softly.
She turned sharply and glared up at him. From this angle, he saw long black tattoos covering the tops of her arms and around her collarbone. They were identical to Vexis’ and seemed to be some sort of profane magistry, altogether unsettling.
Taro picked a lock of the hair from the floor. “What are you doing to yourself?”
“Once he’s inside you, you have to lose something.”
Taro spoke loudly, hoping some hidden bit of sanity might peek from her broken mind. “I need to ask you a question about Vexis.”
At the mention of her sister, Kadia went rabid. She screamed at the top of her lungs, and her face turned red. She covered her ears and beat her head against the wall. “She never got rid of him. He talks all the time. I hear him.”
Taro crouched beside her. “What does he say?”
Kadia’s eyes darkened. “He wants her to kill them all. Kill...kill...KILL...KILL THEM ALL.”
Taro took one step back and glanced sideways at the door.
“You don’t believe me.” Kadia collapsed onto her stomach. “He said no one would.” She banged on the side of her head with her fist. “It won’t stop. The voice from the Reach.”
“What did you say?”
She continued to bang her head, and Taro stepped toward the door. Just as he grabbed the knob, from behind his back, she leapt to her feet and seized him by the throat. Her templar was fairly strong for being years out of practice. She easily could’ve ripped the throat from his neck. Instead, she rubbed his cheek and put her head onto his heart.
“You need to see.”
“I’m just stepping out for a second. I’ll be right back.” He tried to stay calm and polite.
Kadia placed her hand over his mouth. Tears swelled in her eyes. “I have to give myself to him, so you can see.”
A thick, back shadow slithered from her fingertips. It was identical to Vexis’ shadow magic. It crept up her arms and into her mouth and eyes. She gurgled and screamed as it entered her pores. When it consumed her, she fell back and cradled her face.
Taro pulled at the door, but it didn’t budge. The room was suddenly freezing cold; the wal
ls iced over and Taro could see his own breath. There was an aura about the room, a crushing darkness that surrounded him like an ocean.
Kadia scurried up the wall and perched in the corner. Her face was wreathed in shadow and her eyes shined out of the darkness, like two yellow fog lights. Her lips moved and a voice came, but it wasn’t hers. A blood-chilling voice spoke through her.
“Valon uru danik-es.” It was some form of ancient Deific.
Realizing the door wasn’t going to open, Taro summoned the strength to speak. “What are you?”
Kadia crept along the walls, leaving a trail of shadows behind her. She was now so close, it could’ve reached out and touched him. Her teeth were like razors, and her face was like a bottomless pit.
“Don’t hurt me,” Taro said. He was a hair away from begging. “I work for Vexis. I’m on your side.”
It stopped and tilted its head. “Ith-harus.” It got into a stance, like it was about to pounce, but before it could the door opened and light poured into the room. Someone pulled Taro out by the arms, while another slammed the door.
Taro felt like he’d come up from a deep-sea dive. His chest heaved, and his skin regained its color. The nurse checked his pulse and helped him up.
Dr. Halric smacked Taro’s cheek with his wrinkled hand. “Snap out of it, boy.” When he settled, Halric glanced at the nurse. “Leave us. You didn’t see anything.”
She didn’t hesitate to comply, as if she was used to such requests.
“Do you have a death wish?” Halric asked.
Taro’s eyes were still in a haze.
“She’s a paranoid schizophrenic and a tribune-level artificer,” he continued. “I don’t know how you found out about her; but had I not been here, she would’ve ripped you apart.”
“I didn’t know Vexis had a sister.”
“I’ve been working with her to try to bring her back from her madness. If Vexis knew you were here, I doubt she’d be very forgiving.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
Halric crossed his boney arms. “Not this time. I will give you one warning and one warning only: forget about her. Forget about this place. Never return. Is that clear?”
