Prophecy of the Fallen

winter calls to me

ever so softly she wraps me

in her heavy arms

I lie in stillness

flesh the color of pale ice

lips the color of the winter sky

in this crystalline winter

we lay here in slumber

awaiting the coming of the dawn

Prologue

There are many legends about the birth of a world. Aniatea’s is no different. In their version there was the Prince of Gods who defied his father, the King of Gods and created this stunning creature. This stunning creature he called “woman”.

But this woman was bored and lonely. Nothing in the God’s realm could amuse her. And so she began to languish. She grew deathly pale, and her skin contained a blue pallor. She became so thin that she was almost wraith-like. The Prince didn’t like seeing her like this, yet he also didn’t want to lose her.

The Prince was not known for his decision making skills. Eventually the woman’s heart gave out and she passed from being a god to being a subspecies. The Prince was devastated by this loss and he cried for three long days and three long nights before coming up with a solution. First he created a world in which to place other beings like the woman, and then he created the “afterlife” a place for those beings to go when they “died”. Because this woman was no longer a god or this new species “human” he made her Empress of the Afterlife and gave her this world to rule. She would govern these lost souls when they passed from one world to the next.

Still, she was lonely so the Prince made three people, two women and a man. When they died they would pass over to the next realm. The prince found however that these new beings were rather susceptible to the new animals, terrain and weather in the world he had built for them. They had a habit of getting themselves killed quite quickly.

A few generations later the prince grew so aggravated with the stupidity of these humans he came down from the clouds to teach them some lessons. Upon arriving he found that the humans were speechless – they were unable to communicate with each other. He fixed this fairly easily. Once he was satisfied he returned home thinking that everything would be better. A few more generations later he found that even though they were talking they still were dying of hunger.

He flew down to this world and taught them how to gather berries and eat them. (it took him many tries before he got them to recognize that some were poisonous while others were not). While this fixed the dying of hunger issue for a while he saw the humans growing weak because their diet was unbalanced. Once again he came down and taught them how to make weapons. Instead of hunting with them they left them in their tents as relics of the great gods.

Aggravated once again he stormed down to the world and taught them how to hunt. They took to hunting with great pleasure and the Prince was happy for some time. Then he finds that because they are eating the meat raw they are getting sick and dying. He makes the trip down once more. There he gives them fire.

As he is teaching them about fire a beautiful young lady catches his eye and steals his breath. She is beyond gorgeous to him: fair skin, a dainty figure, tiny feet and hands, rose red lips, a high brow, chocolate brown hair and sky blue eyes. He thinks she is the prettiest thing he has ever seen. The prince approaches the young woman and comments upon her beauty declaring her the fairest and most gentle woman he had ever laid eyes on.

The Empress of the Afterlife hears all this from her spy amongst the living and grows furious as she had always assumed she’d be the Prince’s love and that in time even though they were separated by worlds that they’d be together again. Feeling betrayed she sends her spy to look at the young girl. The Empress finds that she is the daughter of the King of the Living World. She decides to appear in a vision before them and give them this news, “The Princess must marry a Chieftain’s son and combine the two lands together. It will bring peace and prosperity.”

And so it did. The Empress had effectively stolen away the Prince’s love. When the Prince came to visit he found her married off to the Chieftain’s son and no longer available to him. He grew furious and a storm raged for three days and three nights. His fury grew and grew until it consumed him. In his rage he shouted, “If I cannot have her, no one can!” and that night he killed her while she slept. When morning broke the courtiers found her husband’s hands and body covered in her blood. They assumed he killed her to take the throne. The husband was beheaded and the children were kept by their aunt.

The princess’s soul arrived in the Afterlife whereupon the Empress asked her to come to the palace. It was there the Empress planned to torture the girl for all eternity; but when she met the girl she realized that the Princess was innocent and it wasn’t her fault the Prince was faithful to no one. When the Empress explained the situation to the Princess the Princess was outraged and called out to the Prince, “Beloved Prince, come and save me from this wicked place!” Hearing her call the prince raced to her aid only to be caught in a web the two women had woven. The Empress declared her vengeance, “For all eternity you shall rot here while you watch the world pass you by,” and chained him up upon a mountain where he’d be able to see the Afterlife, the world and the Heavens.

He cried out in anger and shouted curses upon the ears of his former loves. The Princess decided she’d go to the world and watch over her people from afar and the Empress smiled warmly and led her through the gates that would take her back to the mortal realm. As they were about to part the Princess said, “We need to name this world,” and the Empress responded, “We should name it after a place of sanctuary,” and they decided on “Aniatea” meaning sanctuary. Before they parted for the last time they agreed on one final thing, “No God or Goddess shall henceforth interfere in the lives of the mortals, the humans. For breaking this promise they shall be confined in the Afterlife to rot in pain forever.” They kissed each other’s cheeks and parted; The Princess to Aniatea and the Empress to Afterlife.

When the princess returned to the world she found her grandchildren fighting amongst themselves. She hated to see such anger and hatred among her own kin so she found a priestess that she would communicate with. For some time the people listened and got along well, but that soon began to fade when one greedy man wanted to rule the whole world. Angry at the betrayal she sent the Priestess to bring an omen of death to this king. The king however refused to listen and continued in his terrible ways. This king ruled the city of Venicia. Venicia was one of the most powerful cities in existence. Its wealth was priceless. But all of it was stained with blood. For the tyrant king had gotten it through blood and war. People came to the city seeking wealth, whether it was for knowledge and wisdom, jewels and gems, or magic, they found it here. There were vendors on every street. It was the most splendid city. It was as if the walls were made of gold and the streets of paved silver. Sidewalks held encrusted gems of all shapes and sizes, much like the people of the city. The people wore their wealth on their bodies: in clothing and in jewelry.

Venicia had the best artisan’s in the whole world. They worked in stone and clay, in oil and frescoes, and architecture and gardening. The Venician’s people were geniuses in everything they did. They were happy, they believed that the gods favoured them above all others. And in that way they were spoiled. The Princess was angered by these lofty attitudes and decided to put an end to the thing that turned brother against brother. It was then and there she decided to sink the city and the people into the ocean where it would never be found again.

She looked upon these people with great sadness as she made her decision. She had warned them, given them time to fix their ways and all they had done was laugh in her face. In the dead of night she returned to the city where she had once grown up and woke up the priestess who had carried her message. Into the girls ear she whispered, “Flee this city and bring this message to every town and city you come across: if you seek to harm, if you disobey my words, you too shall find yourself drowning.” Once the Priestess had left, the Princess cried for a few long minutes as she wandered the streets of Venicia. On one street she ran into a young man who helped her up and asked, “Why do you cry, fair lady?”

She told him, “I weep for my people because I begged them twice to give up their harmful ways and they would not listen,”

The young man shook his head and said, “I am sorry for your pain, can I offer you a bed for the night?”

She refused but turned to him and said, “Your kindness has restored some of my faith in this world, kind boy. I give you this warning in hope you can save yourself. I am the Princess and I have come here to smite all those who disobeyed my word. You have proven yourself to be good of heart and worthy of my praise. Go forth from this city and you shall prosper and live many happy days.” So she promised him. When morning dawned the city was gone and all that remained was a vast sea in its place. The young man she had saved and all his descendants were to be the future kings of the prosperous world on Aniatea until the Scarlet Sweat Plague.

 

Chapter 1: Ohiel’s Beginning

The sky was burning a brilliant blue without a cloud in sight. The long walkway was surrounded by the green-tinged ocean water that flooded the streets every time it rained. The City-State of Euphius was an ocean city; it relied on traffic from other city-ports and lands to make its money. The soil was too harsh to grow anything due to it being made up of mostly sand and rock. And when the city flooded with sea water so did the planting fields. This had destroyed many a crop before the farmers decided to try a new profession: fishing. When the farmers transferred to fishing they found that the sea could be a harsh mistress depending on her mood. At times she was as dainty as the Princess and at other’s she was as vicious as the Empress. The Eurivica Sea was the warmest of the three seas: Cesisan Sea which bordered on Aniatea, Urand, Helvonum and the island Sibesul; and the Oseos Sea which bordered Aniatea, Ferruara, the Manea Islands and the large island Euranthus. It was in these waters that the most beautiful and often times the tastiest and very poisonous fish swam. The people soon learned that the brighter the fish the more poisonous it was. It was into this world that Ohiel was born. He was the oldest child due to the fact that three of his older sisters and two of his older brothers had died at a young age with either childhood illnesses or in work accidents. So by mere chance he was left as the oldest child with six younger siblings. They went in this order: Aedai, Yeniat, Heliattan, Meilyns, Iasui, and Duldra. Yeniat, the middle son, helped out their father on the fishing boat. Duldra was only a baby so he was unable to help out in any sense. The four girls attended to their sick mother and worked in the house. Aedai, the eldest of the girls was in charge of cooking and Heliattan maintained the cleanliness of the house. Meilyns worked on fixing and repairing the things that often broke inside and outside the house. Lastly was Iasui who kept up the small garden that had very little growing. Iasui mostly planted herbs and spices that could survive in any condition and sold them at the market for bronze pieces. Sometimes she’d trade them for other vegetables and fruit. Ohiel’s job was to run the house and the fishing business down by the docks. It was here that he often stared out into the wide and vast sea and imagined what it would be like to live beneath those waters. Because sitting in the fishing store was often boring and fruitless (there was not a lot of business to this port) and daydreaming could only last so long, Ohiel took to sketching the sea and the surrounding areas. He quickly grew in ability. By the time he was twelve he had other villagers commissioning him to paint their portraits or portraits of other family members. Occasionally they’d ask him to paint an important object or a nice looking landscape to hang up in their home. Much of the villagers trading took place in the pub or inn where Ohiel’s paintings were hanging. Businessmen and traders as well as sailors saw these paintings hanging on the wall and inquired to the painter who painted them.

The innkeeper told them that, “He’s our pride and joy. He’s a genius.” And sent them on to Ohiel who would show them samples of his work and once they agreed upon a price Ohiel would paint their desired image and get paid upon the delivery of the item.

Sometimes he was cheated out of the money when sailors or tradesmen left or died but at these times when his family complained he said, “It was practice for next time. Next time I will be even better.”

It was when he was fifteen that he got his big break.

It was a rainy day, so rainy in fact that the boats couldn’t launch due to the fact that even if a hand was waved in front of their faces they couldn’t see it.

That was the day his father and younger brother didn’t go out into their boat and instead slept in, soaking up the sunrays while the girls cooked and washed bedding and clothes. Ohiel was at the window watching the rain pour down and sketching what the droplets looked like strolling down the panes of glass.

His sister Aedai questioned him, “Why do you find it so interesting? It looks just like water to me…”

And he replied the same as always, “Each drop is unique; different. The rain is like people, intriguing.”

Aedai shook her head and left to finish the cooking. It was by mere chance that Aedai found she was missing some supplies for that night’s dinner and asked Ohiel to run to the inn.

“Ohiel, brother dear, would you mind running to the Inn and asking Mrs. Johvannsen for some more onions. Tell her that we’ll repay her when we get our next batch of herbs in.”

Ohiel put down his notebook and picked up his jacket off the table as his mother walked into the room for her daily tea. She saw him getting ready to go out and asked him, “You’re going out in this weather?”

“Aedai needs onions for the soup tonight. I’m to go to the inn and fetch them for her,” he told her.

His mother shook her head and picked up a scarf from the table and wound it around his neck as he fasted his jacket. “Please be careful on your journey. It’s very dark and hard to see anything.”

Ohiel kissed her cheek gently and smiled, “Don’t worry, Mother. I promise I’ll come back to you in once piece.”

His mother shook her head and sat down in the kitchen chair as he closed the door behind himself.

Once he was standing on the porch he saw the truth of his mother’s words. It was a fierce storm, one that raged so badly that the water was raging up and down the street in copious amounts. When he was firmly planted on street level the water reached up above his ankles. He shivered in the cold rain and water as he did his best to slosh through the streets to the inn. Halfway there he had to take shelter under a roof for a few brief moments to compose himself before he set off again.

In the windows of the houses he could see bright fires lit and people sitting in chairs making small talk amongst themselves. He smiled at the docile scene and drew out his sketchbook, bending over it so it wouldn’t get wet. He quickly sketched one such scene before moving on towards the inn.

When he reached the inn he pounded on the door for a good five minutes before someone let him in. Mrs. Johvannsen clucked in sympathy when she saw him. “What are you doing here Ohiel, don’t tell me that you came all the way out here to deliver a painting to somebody?”

Ohiel shook his head because he had no breath yet with which to speak. Mrs. Johvannsen patiently waited until he was drying in front of the fireplace and sipping a warm cup of tea to inquire as to why he was out in the nasty weather.

“I’m sorry to bother you Mrs. Johvannsen. But Aedai said we needed onions and that you’d have them. She wondered if we could have them. Aedai also told me to tell you that you’d be paid in the herbs you like so much when we harvest them next.”

Mrs. Johvannsen nodded. “I only have a small amount on me, but I can give you one or two.”

“Two should do, thank you Mrs. Johvannsen.”

“It’s no problem Ohiel. You know how much I love your sister. She’s a wonderful girl. I only hope that she gets married soon or she’ll be too old to marry at all.”

Ohiel smiled politely as he waited in the common room for Mrs. Johvannsen to come back. As he was waiting a handsome man came down from the stairs and stood looking at one of Ohiel’s paintings in the room. He tilted his head this way and that as he studied it. After a bit he turned away from the painting and said to Ohiel, “I didn’t know that you had a master painter living in this town. Who is he and do you think I can meet with him?”

Mrs. Johvannsen who was coming back from the inn’s pantry laughed and remarked, “You’ve certainly met him and his name is Ohiel.” She pointed to Ohiel was standing looking embarrassed. “He’s our master painter.”

The man raised his eyebrows as he studied Ohiel much like he’d studied the painting that hung on the wall behind him.

“You’re certainly advanced. How old are you and who was your teacher?”

Ohiel shuffled his feet for a moment before answering rather quietly, “I’m fifteen and no one taught me. I’m self-taught.”

If the man hadn’t been surprised before he was certainly surprised now as his eyes had grown rather large. “Self-taught? Fifteen? That’s just…unbelievable!”

The man walked over and held out his hand to Ohiel. “I’m Diar.”

“The master painter of Dabrcis!” he cried out in surprise.

Diar smiled. “Yes, I’m him. Now, young man, how would you like to work in a real studio?”

Ohiel’s eyes grew as wide as saucers as he contemplated the man’s proposition.

“You don’t have to decide now; you have three days before I leave for Olaea to catch a boat for Helvonum.”

Ohiel gave him a shy smile as Diar shook his hand before heading back upstairs.

Mrs. Johvannsen patted his shoulder. “I think it’d be good if you went with him. He is considered one of the best. And I’m sure you’d get paid more for being an apprentice than your father makes in half a year.” She pressed the onions into his hand. “Think hard about this, you may never have a chance like this again in your lifetime.”

Ohiel felt his heart pounding as he raced home through the rain.

Now, what to do?

Chapter 2: The Choice

Ohiel returned home in a rush, nearly tripping over himself as he opened the door. Aedai was waiting in the kitchen for the onions which he handed over promptly. His mother had already retired to her room and he found his father sitting in a chair next to the bed reading to her in his soft and melodic voice.

He opened his mouth to talk to them but his mother beat him to it, “Ohiel, go get changed into something dry and warm then you can tell me whatever you so desperately seem to be trying to say.”

Ohiel went to protest this change of development but his father raised his head and spoke in his tone of authority, “Go and do as your mother says. I highly doubt it is that important.”

The boy frowned but obeyed his father’s command and went into the room that he shared with his two brothers. Yeniat was laying down in his bed flipping through a book he had no apparent interest in, but he did look up when Ohiel came in.

“I heard you were forced to go out into this unsightly weather – was the water deep?”

“Pretty deep, yes. Ah, give me a second. I need to change out of the clothes. I have to talk to Mother and Father about something.”

“About something?” Yeniat inquired. “Important or trivial? Father’s grouchy and unhappy about not being able to go out today so he’s been in a bad mood since this morning.”

“I already knew that…” Ohiel replied to his brother’s reply without really paying any attention as he stripped out of his wet clothes and pulled on some clean ones. He wrinkled his nose as he hung his wet pants and shirt over a drying rack one of the girls had put in their room.

Yeniat shrugged. “I was just trying to be helpful.” He flopped backwards onto his pillows and looked at the ceiling.

“I know,” Ohiel told him. “I appreciate it very much.”

From the corner of his eye, Ohiel saw Yeniat smile. He turned and smiled at his younger brother. “Hopefully this storm will pass soon and you can get back out and onto the water again.”

“I hope so!” Yeniat responded enthusiastically before subsiding into flipping through the book again.

Ohiel couldn’t help but wonder why Yeniat was reading a book he didn’t even like but he figured if he asked he wouldn’t get what he considered a satisfactory answer.

He left his room and headed back into his parents where he found that his father was still reading to his mother. Seeing that his father had no intent to stop anytime soon he sat down in the other chair in the room and waited as patiently as he could.

A little while later his father stopped reading and his mother motioned for him to come stand by her.

“Now darling, what is it? You were so excited earlier.”

Ohiel looked over at his father for permission to speak. His father nodded and he took a deep breath and began to explain what had happened to him that afternoon, “I went to the Inn like Aedai asked me to. To get onions as you know, Mother, for dinner tonight. I was trying to rush there because the water was high and it kept slowing me down. When I got there Mrs. Johvannsen was surprised and made me warm up before she allowed me to ask her anything. Then when I was warm I asked her for the onions. Aedai said we’d repay them from our herb and spice garden later. She went down to the pantry to get me the onions. Well, while she was down there this man came down the stairs and he was looking at my paintings all intensely. Mrs. Johvannsen was coming back up when he turned to me and started to ask questions about the master painter who lived here in this town. He wanted to meet with him. He thought that my paintings were very good. So Mrs. Johvannsen tells him that I’m the painter and he is surprised for a moment before he shrugs it off. He then asks who my teacher was. He also asked my age. I tell him that I’m fifteen and self-taught. He’s very surprised now and I was a little bit embarrassed because I liked painting but I never knew they were that good. Anyways, after a few minutes he tells me his name is Diar. You know that master painter from the inland city of Dabrcis? After that he asks me to come study under him in his studio. Which I was excited about. At the same time he also told me that he’s going to Helvonum to study their artistic styles there and that if I wanted to study under him I’d have to go with him. He gave me three days to decide what I want to do.” Ohiel finished quickly as he ran out of breath.

He looked back and forth from his mother and back to his father waiting for their response. He figured that they were unhappy with this idea because they were not responding in any way, good or bad. Hesitantly he said, “I won’t go if you don’t want me to…”

Finally his mother spoke up, “It’s not that we don’t want you to go, it’s just surprising. This has happened all so suddenly.” She took a breath and placed a hand over her heart. “Ohiel, you are a tremendous painter and I’d love nothing more than to see you succeed in that as a profession. So if you think that this is something you should do, something that will help you in the future, take this chance. You may never come across something like this again.”

She took Ohiel’s hand in hers. “I want you to choose your path. You are stagnating here, even I can see it. There is so much to life and you are still so young, I’d like to see you live a little more.” Ohiel’s mother turned to his father, “Darling, what do you think?”

His father was quiet for a bit, rubbing his salt and pepper bearded jaw. He sighed a bit and tapped his fingers on the back of the book as thought. After what felt like an eternity to Ohiel he began to talk methodically.

“Truthfully I’d like you to stay here and manage the fish store.”

Ohiel’s mother glared at him and he cleared his throat and continued. “But I too see you stagnating here and know that this isn’t where you belong, that you belong out in the world doing much greater things than simply being a fisherman’s son.” He took a breath. “Which is why I’m going to encourage you to go with this painter. He will be able to teach you how to paint even better, or if not better, in different styles. He’ll also let you see the world. You’ll learn finances and make your own money. I think this is a good opportunity for you.”

Ohiel let his tightly clenched fists fall open at the end of his father’s speech. He wiped a little desperately at his eyes as he tried to stop the tears from flowing down his cheeks. He sniffled for a moment before uttering, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

His mother smiled and leaned over, embracing him in her arms. “We will always support you in this. From the time you were little you always had a creativity people around you lacked. You are a genius.”

His father nodded stiffly and stood. “You should tell Diar that you’ll go with him tomorrow. No need to keep him waiting longer than need be.”

His father left the room in what seemed to be a rush with the excuse that he was hungry and wondered when they were going to have dinner.

Before Ohiel left his mother said to him, “I’m so very proud of you. When you go, please remember to write at least occasionally to us. We want to hear how your studies are progressing.” She smiled kindly and let her long brown hair fall over her shoulders as she reclined back on the pillows. “Now, why don’t you come read to me for a bit as I have a feeling your father won’t be back for a bit yet?”

“Of course, Mother. You know how I enjoy reading with you.”

She patted the bed and said, “Come sit next to me.”

Ohiel picked the book up off the chair where his father had left it and handed it to his mother. Next he climbed up onto the bed and settled next to his mother. Once he was comfortably leaning back against the pillows he took the book from her and began to read.

He must have drifted off to sleep because he woke to Aedai’s voice calling, “Dinner! Scrub yourselves while I finish setting the table!”

He stirred and touched his mother’s shoulder gently to wake her up.

She didn’t stir and he sighed and laughed slightly. He thought to himself, I’m sure this is where all my sisters get their sleeping ability from. Very gently he shook her shoulder again and whispered, “It’s time to get up Mother.”

When she didn’t stir he wondered if she was tired from being up earlier today. Not to mention he had added quite a bit of stress to her life today.

After a moment he called out to the room, “Give us a second, Mother is really tired, I need to get her up.”

Aedai called back, “Fine, just hurry up everyone else is ready to eat.”

He went to the wash basin and cleaned his hands before picking up the cloth that was beside the bed and bringing it to his mother’s bedside.

He leaned over and wiped her face. She didn’t move. Frowning he placed a hand on her cheek and found it cold as ice. Very carefully and a bit warily he moved his hand to his mother’s throat.

He closed his eyes and let out a silent breath.

His mother had no pulse.

She was dead.

Chapter 3: Death

The day was warm and sunny – the grey clouds moved through the sky quickly and shifted shape so often the young kids couldn’t even really cloud watch properly. But for Ohiel’s family there was no joy. Their father had gathered them up early in the morning and presided over them as they dressed. Because they didn’t have anything formal to wear their father had ordered them all new formal clothing in black. While they weren’t proper funeral clothes they would do as that had been the last of their money. The storm that had raged the same day their mother had died destroyed all but two of their fishing boats and that meant they were losing money.

In the past three days they’d had to sell off their store because they could no longer afford to keep it up. Yeniat had a good head for math and had calculated the costs of running the store and keeping a house as well as the two remaining fishing boats – it hadn’t looked good so their father had made the difficult choice and sold off the store.

“Besides,” their father had said, “there’s really no one able to work it at this point since Ohiel is leaving anyways.”

At this Aedai had thrown a comforting look at him and Ohiel felt bad. She was his younger sister, and shouldn’t be having to look after him. He should be looking after her – after all of them.

Earlier that day he’d offered to not go, “Father,” he’d begun, “I don’t have to go anymore. You could use me around here still.”

His father had glared and snarled at him, “Your mother wanted you to go. She thought that you had a chance – do you want to make her suffer in the afterlife?”

Ohiel had relented but still felt terrible about leaving his family. He had been quiet the rest of the time barely saying anything at all. His sisters too had been subdued and silent, contemplating their chances at getting married now that their mother was no longer alive to make them a match.

The path down to the cemetery outside of town was long and curving, winding this way and that around the marshes and the few hills that dotted the landscape. The dirt that was kicked up from the ground covered their new shoes and turned them a dirty and dull brown. Even the hems of their pants and skirts were turning a dull brown that matched the color of the earth. Ohiel watched a bit out of it as Aedai attempted to make her sisters hike their skirts up a bit higher so that they didn’t get dirty to no avail. The younger girls were too fraught with grief to care about getting their skirts dirty now that the reality was hitting them: their mother was dead.

Aedai said, “Duldra – what are we going to do about him?”

Heliattan who was carrying him cradled him close and shook her head, her long hair swaying with the movement. “I don’t know. I could see if someone could look after him…”

“That costs money,” Yeniat hissed at them as they walked the road, “Besides, we should be grieving right now, not talking about him.”

Aedai slapped Yeniat’s face sharply. “Shut your mouth, Yeniat. We’re all grieving but it a responsible question! If you didn’t have to help father I’d enlist you!”

Iasui the quietest spoke up, “I can do it. I can garden and carry him around. It won’t be that difficult. I remember when Momma used to carry me around when she worked.”

Surprised, Aedai shook her head sharply and twisted away from everybody and dashed up to walk by their stoic father who was setting a hard pace. They saw him wrap an arm around her shoulder and watched Aedai lean into his embrace. Meilyns pushed ahead as well and appeared on their father’s other side.

Ohiel watched the few birds that lived in the marshes call back and forth; mother, father and children. A family.

Heliattan’s shoulder bumped his as they walked and he held out his arms to Heliattan and whispered, “Helia, give him to me for a little bit, I don’t mind carrying him.”

Gently Helia placed Duldra in Ohiel’s arms and shuffled behind him rubbing her tired arms.

Exhaustion had set into all of their bones and it took all their effort to keep from slumping to their knees and crying where they stood.

They had a duty to be proper and formal, to not cry in front of other mourners. They needed to look strong for everybody else. They could not be weak. Being weak was a sign of “bad blood”. And Ohiel’s father believed that his family had never had “bad blood”. He hadn’t cried at his mother and father’s funeral, his brother’s hadn’t cried, his parents hadn’t cried at their family’s funeral and as far back as he could all the stories said that they had never cried. They were not weak and they did not have “bad blood”.

His wife’s family was not known for being weak or having “bad blood” either, but they came from a village of Timatand on the opposite coast.

Ohiel’s father had often told the story of their first meeting.

“I went out one afternoon to try and make my way in the world; I thought that by apprenticing myself to another fisherman in another village I would learn more, so I headed to Olaea. At Olaea I found myself working with another young man who also desired to become a legendary fisherman. He had been working for a man named Ocyin. Ocyin was often times a cruel man due to the way he grew up. And because of that he treated us just as cruelly as he had been treated. I stayed there for a while before I realized that my career would not be going anywhere because the other young man would take his place upon his death. After that I moved on to Timatand and began to work there as a minor apprentice. Soon my work began to be noticed by some of the older men. They quickly latched onto me and gave me better work. My work never faltered; I continued to improve but I quickly found that I would never be great at what I did. So instead of trying to do something I would never be good at I started preparing to leave. The man I worked for had a daughter, your mother, and she often would bring food to her father at the docks where we worked. We began to get to know each other over the course of my time there. About the time I was getting ready to leave I decided that I’d like to have her as my wife and so I proposed this idea to her father. He agreed and gave me her hand. By the time I returned here I was married and your mother was pregnant with our first child. We settled down in my parent’s old house and I bought a single boat. From there I began to build up my business. And so, that was how your mother and I met.”

Ohiel had head this story many, many times over his life and now as he stood in front of his mother’s gravestone it was brought back to him in full force.

Their father had chosen a simple engraving,

“Ioly. Mother, Daughter, Sister. Beloved to All. May she Rest in Peace.”

He saw the girls grouped together, holding each other’s hands in silence. The preacher stood behind her grave holding the Book of Days in preparation of reading the soliloquy read after every death. After he read the soliloquy their father would move to the front and recite some words in remembrance of her. He would then list her accomplishments of life. The final thing would be to pour a bit of dirt onto the grave and then a song would be sung in closing. When the other mourner’s left the family would then be allowed to cry or grieve in any way they liked. The other villagers would be respectful of this and not return to the gravesite for three days. They would also not visit the family or call upon them in any form. Tradition stated that the best anecdote for grief was being alone and time.

Ohiel could not comprehend this; how could time or being alone help anything? But it must because his parents and their parents before them had all gone through the same motions they were now doing.

He looked at the graves near his mother’s, on them were the names of all her children who had died before him. So many, he thought, how does one cope with losing so many children? How long did Father grieve? He wondered to himself. Will I too one day grieve for lost children?

The priest began to finish his soliloquy and his father stepped forward to take the helm. He listed her accomplishments of being a good mother, a good wife, a good daughter, a good provider of food, of having many children, of cleanliness and kindness, her compassion for everybody, and her ability to see the good in all.

“She will be dearly missed,” he commented at the end of his speech and flung a bit of dirt upon the grave before stepping back as the ending song was sung.

Finally, when all the mourners had left Aedai, Heliattans, Meilyns, and Iasui all sank to their knees and began to cry big, heavy tears. Their pain was clearly written on their faces, while Yeniat and Father stood stoic behind them.

Ohiel sniffled just a bit, but he kept the tears at bay, when he returned home he would cry for her in private.

Once only, because after that he had a journey to make.

A journey that his mother had wished for him, a journey that he hoped would change his life.

Chapter 4: The Journey Begins

He gave all of his sisters each a hug, his baby brother a kiss on the forehead and his younger brother a firm handshake. Then he turned to his father and offered his hand which his father took gruffly. As he shook his father’s hand he couldn’t get over the feeling of the familiar rough callouses and the jagged edges of his father’s face.

“I’ll miss you,” he told his father as casually as possible.

He saw his father’s brow crinkle as he contemplated his son’s comment. “I hope…you’ll be all right.”

Ohiel nodded and let go of his father’s hand as he turned towards the carriage that would take him and Diar to Olaea. Diar was waiting patiently by the carriage doors and smiled when Ohiel looked over to him.

After another round of hugs for his sisters, he finally moved to Diar’s side. Diar helped Ohiel up and into the carriage before turning to Ohiel’s father and saying,

“Thank you for entrusting your son to me. I’ll make sure to take care of him.”

“Please do,” Ohiel’s father replied. “If he gets to be too much trouble feel free to send him back to me.”

Diar laughed, “I’m sure that it is not going to be a problem.”

A few minutes later they were on their way, the carriage banging along the ruts of the destroyed road.

Every few moments they would bounce in the carriage as they hit another one of the tree roots that stuck up due to the fact that the storm had washed away all of the dirt that had originally covered it.

There were a few minutes of silence as they adjusted to each other’s presence before Diar asked, “Are you comfortable?”

Ohiel blushed, “I’m a bit uncomfortable…I’ve never ridden in a carriage before.”

Diar was shocked, “Never?”

Ohiel shook his head, “I never had a need to.”

Diar leaned back, “Well, it’s never comfortable but it’s faster than walking.”

“Is this your personal carriage?”

The older man laughed. “No, no. It belongs to my friend, he’s only lending it to me. We’ll be meeting in Olaea so I can return it to him.”

Ohiel and Diar became quiet as the carriage rumbled onwards towards its destination. Ohiel made a quick study of the inside quickly analyzing that although it was a good looking carriage it was not the best money could buy. The carriage’s lining was fake silk and velvet of a dull (probably faded) red color. The ribbing was painted a gold color to make it look like real gold. Another sign that although this man had wealth, he did not flaunt it.

He glanced out at the window and saw the fields of green, pastures where cows grazed. He had never seen so many in one place before! He had grown up with the sea, fish and chicken and perhaps the occasional goat or horse, but never really cows. Cows of brown and white, black and white and sometimes solid black or brown! There was even a red one!

With a quick movement he had drawn his sketchpad from his small bag and started sketching the cows as they passed. He noted their anatomy and the way they moved when they walked, how they stood…his hand stopped moving for a moment as he contemplated his sketch. He brushed his fingers over the contours of the sketch. Diar leaned over to take a look at his sketch.

“You’d do better if you added more details while you had the chance. You might not get another chance to see a subject again so you want to add as many details as you possible can.”

Ohiel licked his lips, “How do you know if a detail is important?”

Diar wrinkled his nose. “You just…” he gestured with his hand, “You really look. You look hard, deeply, at the subject. When I paint men for example,” he waved his hand again, “I try and look at their individual muscles, the expression on their faces, the way they hold their hands, the way they stand,” he stopped and waited for Ohiel to stop writing. “Have you ever heard of contrapposto?”

Ohiel shook his head. “No, I don’t think I have…”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t. I see you mostly do portraits and landscapes, rarely ever full forms, am I correct?”

Ohiel nodded enthusiastically.

“Well, that’s a problem. As an artist you should be able to paint a variety of ways, not just one or two ways. I’ll have to teach you how to do full body paintings.”

Ohiel nodded again.

“So, contrapposto is a way of standing, counter pose actually. When you stand casually you put more weight on one foot, one side. That is conrapposto.”

Ohiel’s pen scribbled frantically across his pad of paper.

Diar calmly told him, “When you actually start painting or drawing using contrapposto you’ll start to understand it.”

Diar gazed intently at Ohiel, before he took the sketch pad from Ohiel and his charcoal pencil. “Hold still,” he commanded.

Very quickly his eyes traced the boy’s features as the charcoal pencil scratched across the page. A few minutes later he turned the sketch pad around to show Ohiel the result.

“See? In this I sketched you at one moment – the moment of your surprise as I took the sketch pad – I managed to create a whole new idea, not just blank or emotionless as was preferred in the past.”

Diar took another breath, “You are a great artist, never doubt that. But remember, you are not the best, you may never be the best, I for one, am only known so widely because of a single commission. You may never get something like that, but I would not worry. I’m sorry this is very confusing for you right now, and I wish there was something more I could do, but…”

This time it was Ohiel who smiled. “I am not going to worry.”

That was their first conversation of many about art during the two day journey to the ship.

The ship was large and made of a gorgeous red colored wood. The masts seemed to pierce the sky and when the sun shone down it reflected off the white masts unstained by dirt and grime of the sea. This was her maiden voyage – the first time she was to sail. Ohiel thought of their journey on the carriage and wondered at this new marvel.

There was a round barrel sitting at the corner of the beginning of the pier and he found it was a good vantage point to observe the ship. Once he was comfortably seated he pulled his sketch pad and his charcoal pencil. He flipped through his sketch pad until he got to a clean page. He stared for a moment as he took in the ship before touching his pencil to the paper and starting to sketch. Every few minutes he would look up and double check that he was drawing accurately. The ship began to take shape in his art, the minute details, the small cracks in paint, the beautiful name of the ship, “The Sea Maiden” in its gorgeous cursive, and the handsome sailors who moved around each other going about their jobs easily.

Diar spoke over his shoulder, “You seem to be getting the hang of what I taught you.”

Ohiel jumped, not realizing that the man had come up behind him.

“Sorry,” Diar apologized, “I thought you had heard me come up. I called your name several times.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I was just finishing up anyways…” Ohiel let the sentence trail off, “Did you need me?”

“Oh? Yes, we’re getting ready to board.”

Diar gave him his ticket. “We’re in first class, we’ll have a large sitting room, two bedrooms and an onboard bathroom as well as a breakfast room. I think you’ll enjoy this trip very much.”

Ohiel stood up from the barrel which was promptly whisked away by a sailor in white.

“They make good subjects, don’t they?” Diar inquired of his young pupil.

Ohiel nodded as he was too busy staring as they walked up the gangplank of the ship. After waiting for about a half hour in the boarding line the Captain greeted them introducing himself as, “I’m Captain Leer. This is not my first ship, nor will it be my last. I am here to take you to Helvonum. Please enjoy your time aboard this ship but also remember you must follow the rules and regulations. Come aboard.”

“Aaaah!” Leer grinned as he patted Diar on the back. “Here you are! Did my carriage arrive here in good shape?”

“It’s back here in perfect shape Leer, don’t worry.”

The Captain turned and looked down at Ohiel. “Who might you be? You can’t be related to Diar, now can you?”

Ohiel shook his head. “I’m Ohiel. I’m a painter. I’m going to be Diar’s apprentice.”

“Apprentice, eh? You manage to get along with him? I’ve never seen anyone get along with this rascal!”

Ohiel ducked his head and looked away with embarrassment.

“Aww, don’t be like that boy, I meant nothing by it. Diar here is my best friend’s son. His Daddy’s dead now of course, but I still look after him.”

Diar gripped the older man’s hand, “Enough about that now, we’ve got things to be doing.”

Leer laughed his big belly laugh and waved them onboard the ship. “Enjoy!” he called.

Once they were away from the old man Diar commented, “He’s like a second father to me, although I think he’s losing his mind. In any case, here is our cabin!”

And with that he threw open a door and their sea voyage began.

 

Chapter 5: Upset

Ohiel was sick from the first few days of the voyage on, so sick in fact that he could barely move without throwing up all of his food. Diar had tried to stay with him but seeing Ohiel sick was making him sick too. Instead of staying with him, he enlisted one of the many maids on the ship to look after his young apprentice.

The maid’s name was Blose. She was a middle-aged woman whose smile was kindly…until she started talking. She was firm and strict, she liked things kept neat and orderly and above all clean.

While she may not have been the best pick to be Ohiel’s “nurse maid” he liked her and she liked him. Perhaps she took a liking to him because he did not ridicule her slightly overweight stature or the wrinkles that were starting to line her face or maybe it was simply that he was nice to her and always apologized when he made a mess and often insisted on cleaning it up himself even though he was sick.

She asked him on the third day she was assigned to him this, “Why are you so intent on keeping things picked up when you’re sick? That’s what I’m here for.”

Ohiel smiled a bit wryly and spoke (between coughs and gasps for air as the ship tilted this way and that) “I’m used to picking up after myself. I grew up in a poorer family. Which meant we all had our jobs to do. Because my mother was sick we had to do our best to keep her comfortable and make sure the house was clean in her place.”

“Was sick? Did she get better?”

Ohiel shook his head than promptly threw up into a dull metal bucket due to the motion of his head making him sick.

Blose soothed him for a few minutes and when he had his breath back Ohiel answered, “Yes she was sick, but no she didn’t.”

“And yet you left her?”

“She wanted me to go – to achieve something – to do something with my life other than letting it stagnate.”

“Even so, you should have stayed and helped take care of her!”

“I couldn’t…there was nothing to…”

“Nothing to what? She’s your mother!”

Ohiel took a deep breath, his voice wavering, “She died, not long after she told me I should go. She died and left me.”

Blose made a sorry sound, “I’m so sorry…I didn’t know. What exactly is it that you do?”

“I paint. I’m a painter. Well, a painter’s apprentice. To Diar.”

“Diar? That famous painter? He’s the other man in the room next to yours?”

Ohiel nodded, “Yes. He’s the one. We’re on this trip so that he can study a new style and train me in it.”

“That was kind of him; you must be very good for him to want to bring you on this trip with him.”

The boy shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m that good, but he thought so. Obviously, I’m not a master painter yet – I doubt I ever will be – but I hope to learn more from him. He is a great painter after all.”

Blose’s mouth twitched up into a smile, “I think you’re really sick – you just said that twice.”

He groaned and rolled over onto his side curling up into a ball. “I feel sick. It’s like the waves are in my bones.” He shivered. “And it’s cold. All I want to do is sleep…I could die happy if my feet touched land just once.”

Blose laughed out right at his comment. “Many people feel that way, but if you travel by ship enough then you’ll start to get used to it.”

“I never want to travel by ship again.”

Blose stroked his hair back from his forehead commenting, “It’s certainly getting long…I’ll cut it for you later.”

With that, she left the room and the young man to sleep a deep sleep.

A little later Diar came into Ohiel’s room and woke him from his slumber. “I just wanted to check on you and make sure you were still doing well. Sometimes people who get really sick die in their sleep.”

Ohiel was far too sleepy to completely comprehend the words and murmured something back.

Diar glanced out the window in the boy’s room and saw the sea bashing up against the side of the ship. He shook his head and made his way to the door where he stopped and looked back at Ohiel once more before he closed the door behind himself.

A few minutes later, he was mounting the steps to the captain’s quarters where his good friend was sleeping. He knocked on the door briskly and waited for a reply.

A few seconds later, the door opened and Leer poked his head out to see who was knocking on his door at this time of night.

“Diar? Something wrong?”

Diar frowned and shook his head a little bit. “Can I come in?”

Leer stepped back from the door and held it open. “Of course, now, you wouldn’t look like that unless something was truly wrong.”

“It’s not that something is ‘truly wrong’ as you put it, but something feels off to me. You know I’ve been on quite a few sea voyages myself and I wouldn’t come to you like this unless…how do I explain it?”

Leer examined his best friend’s son in silence as he waited for Diar to continue his explanation.

“It’s like a gut feeling, something telling me that, uh, something isn’t right. I just don’t know what.”

Leer sighed, “Sometimes weather like this can change a person’s mood. Even to me sometimes it is off putting. I’ve always said if I had to die I’d rather the Empress take me while I’m at sea.”

Leer patted Diar’s shoulder, “I don’t mean to push you away, but gut feelings aren’t very useful if you can’t tell me what’s making your gut twinge.”

Diar gripped the old man’s forearm. “I don’t blame you. It might turn out to be nothing in the end anyways.”

“Good boy,” Leer smiled at him and motioned him out of the cabin, “Go on then, get back to that protégé of yours.”

Diar left his old friend feeling a bit worried but realizing that at this point, Leer was right – there was not much they could do on gut feelings.

He tried to keep his tread light on the stairs so as not to wake up any of the passengers; the walls were thin and often times the smallest noise could easily wake a person up.

Back at his own suite, he watched the storm that raged and his gut got a twinge again.

He placed a hand over his belly and shook his head before going to sleep.

Morning dawned with a slightly cloudy day but with no more signs of a storm on the horizon. Ohiel turned over in his bed and for the first time in a week, he wasn’t sick.

He swung his feet over the side of the bed and stretched, his fingers brushing the ceiling. He yawned and rubbed a hand through his messy hair. He yawned again and stood, his legs trembling because it had been a good week since he had actually walked around.

He had finished dressing when Diar knocked on his door. “May I come in?”

“I’m actually coming out,” Ohiel told him.

“You’re up?” Diar sounded surprised so Ohiel opened the door.

“I’m feeling much better today on all counts.” Ohiel stifled another yawn. “Although it feels like I could do with some more sleep.”

Diar stepped back from the doorway to let Ohiel through. “Do you feel up to breakfast?”

As if in response Ohiel’s stomach growled loudly. “Yes, apparently I am.”

Ohiel closed the door to their room as they left and asked, “Do you know where Blose is? She offered to give me a haircut and I’d like to take her up on that offer.”

The older man shook his head. “I don’t know where she is. I’m sure we could ask the serving staff if they’ve seen her about anywhere.”

Instead of eating in their suite this morning, they had decided to eat in the main dining hall with the majority of the other ships passengers.

Breakfast was a light fare, some slightly toasted bread and butter with a side of honey, some hot tea and tiny bowl of strawberries and cream.

“Mmmm,” Ohiel made a pleased noise in his throat. “This is delightful.” He munched on another strawberry. “These are really good, the ones I’ve had before weren’t nearly as sweet as these were.”

“I’m glad you like them,” the familiar voice of Blose said over his shoulder. “I heard you were looking for me.”

Ohiel rose from his seat and turned towards here. “I was – you offered to give me a haircut and I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer.”

Blose refilled his teacup as she talked to him, “That’s fine, but I’ll only have some time later on today. Do you mind waiting? I’m sure you can find something to do in the meantime.”

“I’m sure I can,” Ohiel responded to her request. “I think I’ll be on the top deck.”

Diar cut in, “Actually, I want to teach you some new tricks with the contrapposto I was telling you about. There are some other techniques like impasto and tenebrism you’ve yet to learn. This free time will give you time to practice.”

“I’ll find you later then,” Blose told them before she left to refill another passenger’s teacup.

Diar and Ohiel left and returned to their cabin where Diar explained both impasto and tenebrism.

“Impasto is where the paint is layered on thickly in some areas and very thin in others. Tenebrism is where the background is very dark with a single source of light in the painting. The light does not necessarily have to make since in its location. Here, try drawing that still life I set up over there using impasto and tenebrism.”

Ohiel very carefully sketched out the still life and then slowly began building up the paint in darker areas and using less paint in the lighter ones. A few hours later he’d completed his rather simple still life and Diar was nodding his head.

“That’s quite good. That’s what I’m talking about. Once you get more practice you’ll get even better.”

As Diar was lecturing him on his mistakes Blose came into the room and had him sit in the chair so she could cut his hair. Diar continued his lecture even while Blose cut his hair.

When it seemed that Diar was winding down his speech Blose cut in. “May I see this painting you seem to be critiquing so heavily?”

“Ohiel?” Diar asked.

“It’s fine with me,” he told him. “I don’t mind. I’ll have to get used to showing my work anyways, won’t I?”

“I’m sure you will,” Diar’s reply sounded a bit too ambiguous for Ohiel’s liking but he decided to leave it alone.

Diar brought over the painting so Blose could see it. “I think it’s very nice. I like how it looks almost three dimensional.”

The older man was smug. “I taught him how to do that. Although his landscapes were good and his portraits were decent he needed more refinement. I’ve been giving that to him.”

Blose shook her head, “He’s got raw and natural talent; even I can see that, Mister Master Painter.”

Diar narrowed his eyes at Blose. “Are you making fun of me? Have you ever tried painting?”

Blose sighed and left the comment alone only saying, “I’m finished darling; you look much more handsome now. Remember to get it cut regularly, you will feel better and people will take you more seriously if you look like you’re sophisticated.”

She brushed the bangs out of his eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” she told him and left.

The evening started out normally (despite another raging storm) but as the night progressed, another storm started to converge on the ship. This storm was much more dangerous than any actual storm: it was a mutiny. Diar and Ohiel awakened to several large bangs on their door before several burly men who had been part of the cleaning crew broke it down.

They found themselves hustled to the dining room with the rest of the passengers and once there the two of them were forced to take seats at one of the tables.

There was a couple sitting across from them, holding onto each other’s hands as if it were the last thing they would ever be able to do.

Diar watched with a slightly detached expression what was going on, but made sure to keep one eye at all times on Ohiel. Ohiel looked scared, and he had every right to be – Diar had promised to keep him safe and here they were captured be renegades.

Ohiel leaned over and whispered to him, “Are they pirates?”

Diar wanted to laugh at his naiveté. “No, they’re not just pirates, they’re former military soldiers turned pirates.”

“What are we going to do?”

“I have no idea – go along with them and hope that we get out of this alive.”

In the back of his mind, Ohiel knew there was only a very slim chance of this; that there was likely not going to be any escape or rescue. They were too far out to sea at this point. Still, he hoped.

Slowly mental exhaustion began to set in and Ohiel’s head drooped as his eyelids fluttered. He was able to stall his sleepiness for an extra hour by pinching himself when he started to daydream. He could see Diar next to him, looking nonchalant as he leaned back in his chair as if there was nothing amiss and everyone had gathered for one big party.

He had just fallen into a light dose when a booming voice rang out above all the sobs,

“Your captain is dead! We’ve taken control of this ship. You’ll all be fine as long as –”

Before the man could finish his sentence, a huge force rocked the ship. Cries were no longer stifled as people were tossed from one side of the ship’s dining room to the other.

The man who had come in with the leader was shouting, “What’s going on?! Someone answer me!”

Ohiel was surprised when it was Diar who answered, “You must be terrible pirates if you don’t even realize it’s the storm that’s causing this.”

The leader turned to him and snarled, “Fix this!”

Diar strolled casually up towards him. “I’m not the master of the storm – I can’t help you any. You killed the one man who might have been able to save us all.”

The leader backhanded Diar so hard the man staggered back with blood dripping down his face.

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

Diar looked up challengingly. “You’ll have to make me then,” he remarked as he wiped the blood from his face. “Of course, I also might be able to help you, but that all depends if you’ll cooperate with me or not.”

“We won’t be cooperating with anybody, you’ll be doing as we say or we’ll start killing passengers.”

Ohiel quivered in his chair as the fear for Diar began to overcome him – what was the man playing at here?

Another wave shook the ship and people screamed as there was a groaning noise.

The ship was literally trembling and from where he sat Ohiel could see widening cracks in the ship’s side.

“Diar!” he cried out.

Diar turned and faced him, the only sign he gave that he understood the problem was a little head nod and a finger to his lips.

Ohiel sank back against the seat as one of the pirate captain’s men approached.

“What’s wrong, kid? This your first time on a ship?”

Ohiel held up his head and did not look away from the pirate’s face.

“That’s none of your business.”

“I rather think it is, you’re on our ship now.”

Ohiel stepped forward almost into the man’s personal space. “It’s not your ship if you can’t control it.”

“You’re a smartass little brat, aren’t you? How’d you like to be locked in the brig?”

“There isn’t a brig in this ship; it’s not the type of ship you’re thinking about. It’s a passenger ship which means all it has is rooms.”

“Hey, Captain! The little twerp seems to know something about how a ship works, maybe we should bring him up to the bridge and see if he can steer this damned thing.”

Ohiel pushed down the panic and tried to breathe through his fear. It had been a long time since he had controlled a ship and only then it had been his father’s small fishing boats before he learned that he got severely seasick.

The boy found himself pushed up to the bridge where he was placed in the guard of two more burly men who were carefully watching his every move.

The captain who had come up with them placed his doughy paws on Ohiel’s shoulders and whispered in his ear, “You get this boat to land or we’ll kill all the passengers on this ship.”

Ohiel looked at the men surrounding him, at the rain that was pouring down, at the half destroyed main mast, listened to the creaking and groaning of the ship and said,

“None of us are ever going to make it to dry land again.”

The captain’s eyes seemed to blaze a bright red and Ohiel stepped back.

“I’ll tell you one more time – steer this ship or I’ll kill those passengers.”

“I can’t! If I force the ship one way or another against this wind and the current it’ll break into pieces; can’t you hear it?”

Ohiel watched as the pirate’s listened to the ships creaking and groaning.

“The kid is right, Captain. This ship is breaking apart. We don’t have much more than an hour before it goes down into the water.

“Fine. Abandon ship, we’ll take the lifeboat and leave these guys to drown.”

Ohiel glared as he was forced to watch the pirates get into the lifeboat and row away.

Once he was sure they were out far enough out and unable to turn back quickly in the storm, he took ahold of the helm and pointed it towards the small island he knew was no more than an hour’s drift away from their present location.

He felt rather than heard Diar come up behind him. “Come down to the lower deck, if you stay up here you’ll be crushed upon those rocks.”

“Someone has to stay up here and direct the ship to that point.”

Diar smiled as he put a small item into Ohiel’s pocket.

The last thing Ohiel remembered was Diar’s whispered words, “I know.”

Chapter 6: Zese’s Beginning

Zese sat on his horse’s back upon the hilltop. From this vantage point he could see the whole valley spread out beneath him. He tilted his head back and listened to the wind whisper about him. He lived in the countryside of the city of Dabrcis - the most prosperous city in Aniatea. He turned his head away from the valley as a voice floated over to him, “ZESE!”

He refused to answer the call and moved further up the hilltop.

“ZESEEEEEEE!!”

He growled under his breath and set off down the hill and towards the valley.

“ZEEEESSSEEE!”

This time the person calling him was far beyond irritated. “It’s about our grandfather!”

Zese’s head whipped towards the voice as he urged his horse up the hill faster.

“What? Is he alive?!”

The woman standing on the hill was a pretty thing, young and still delicate as if she hadn’t quite left girlhood behind although she was in her early twenties.

Her name was Ciodela and she was his older sister. “Father just told me we had news of him…it’s been seven years…if he’s alive…”

“Let’s hurry then!”

“Why? You barely knew him; you were only three! I knew him much better!”

“I still remember him – remember him painting…”

Ciodela stomped her foot and ran up the hill in anger.

It had always been a sore subject between the two of them. Their grandfather had been teaching Ciodela to paint when he had left. While Zese had never had any formal training he had inherited all his grandfather’s talent without any of the training Ciodela had had to go through.

The plain ended abruptly as they reached their rather large house – a four-story pavilion.

It was all he could have wanted growing up – a large piece of land to roam in, an enormous barn that held horses of every shape and size, several exotic animals like the wolf were also in residence.

Their gardens were large and lush, which produced both flowers and vegetables as well as fruits. Their land also housed some cattle at one end. He couldn’t have asked for a better place to grow up – to learn to paint.

He swung down from the saddle in a hurry and rushed in – hoping beyond hopes that his grandfather would be standing there.

In front of him were his mother and father looking rather grim.

“Dad?” he asked.

His father turned towards him, an expression of grief on his face.

“Is he…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘dead’.

Ricr, his father, exhaled rather roughly. “Yes.”

In that moment his whole world came crashing down around his ears. He felt his eyes welling up even though he knew boys weren’t supposed to cry. Ciodela started sobbing as she sank to the floor in a puddle. His mother Niciste was holding onto her husband’s arm tightly.

“Darling,” she spoke to Ciodela, “Please do get up off the floor and act a bit more like a young lady. You could at least go cry in your room.”

Ciodela looked up in a huff tears still on her cheeks and flounced out of the room.

Niciste turned to her son, “Zese…you too. There is no need to cry. Everybody dies. Someday your father will die, one day I will die, eventually your sister will die and then you too will die. It is natural and part of life. It is not something to be scared of.”

“Perhaps,” Ricr said to his wife, “we should take them to the family cemetery and introduce them to their family there.”

Niciste smiled, “What a wonderful idea. We should go soon, that way you can be prepared for your granddaddy’s funeral.”

Zese rubbed his eyes and tried to smile. “I’ll be brave now.”

“I’m sure you will,” Niciste said and patted her son’s head before turning to go into the parlor. “Don’t think I’m unemotional about this…death. I am, but it is no polite to show your grief in society as you well know.”

She removed herself from the room in a flurry of skirts and perfume leaving her husband and son alone together in the room.

Ricr held out his hand to Zese and said, “Come with me, I have something to show you.”

Zese took his hand and his father led him to the back of the house and to the stairs that led down to their basement.

The boy was torn between excitement and wariness: he’d never been allowed to go down these stairs before.

He tripped briefly as he struggled to keep up with his father’s longer strides, but quickly regained his balance.

“What’s down here?” he queried as they got a little farther down the steps.

“Something special,” his father told him, “Something your ancestors started and you’re to complete.”

The first thing that came to Zese’s mind was, ‘a fresco? I’m going to be painting a fresco?’

Excitement boiled in his belly as they made it to the last landing. Here his father paused and turned to him.

“This is a special place – it is to be kept secret from anyone outside our family and revered above all things. What lies below us is truly a gift from the Gods and the Princess. We should do our best and respect her wishes.”

“Her wishes? The Princess’s? Isn’t she a Goddess? So how can she talk to us?”

Ricr leveled a serious gaze at his son. “Don’t ask questions of me. All will be answered once you descend the last of these stairs. When you get to the bottom of the stairs to go the left down the passage, when you get to the first fork go left again. As you continue down that left fork you should pass two crossings. Make sure you count them. When you get to the third crossing you go to the right. At this point look to the right side of the passage. You should see a torch there. Light it with these matches,” his father held up three matches. “Once it’s lit carry it to the end of this hall. At the end of this hall it will look like there is nowhere else to turn. That is not so. On your right is a door of the same color stone that will only open if you place the torches flames in the hole at the center of the door. At this point the door will raise up and you will go through. Once you’re through you’ll see a burned rope. That is part of the lever that opens and closes the door. Find the new piece of rope that is lying nearby and attach the stone to it. Once the stone is attached climb up to the top of the rocks on one side of the door. Place the rope so the stone is dangling over the space where you found it. The floor is the lever that opens the door and when the stone is on it it is open. After you complete that chore go to the left. This is the last passage you travel through to get there. At the end of this passage turn to the right and you will see a wooden door. This wooden door is the entrance to the room you must go in. This will be a private thing for you – so this is where I stop. Good luck.” Ricr ruffled his son’s hair.

Zese bounded down the last of the steps and turned to look at his father one more time. His father nodded and Zese turned and headed left. The passage was only partially lit, light enough he could see somewhat ahead but dark enough that he’d really have to pay attention to where he was going. He got to the fork and went left. A few minutes later he got to the first crossing.

Do I go right here? He asked himself. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the three matches. No, it’s the third crossing I turn at. He passed the next crossing and reached the third one in a decent amount of time. He went right and felt along the dark passage wall for the torch and once he located it lit the first match. The first match guttered and went out but on the second match he got it lit up. He took the torch down the hallway and just as his father had said he could not see a door of any type.

Very carefully he placed his hand on the right wall and felt for a circular impression. He found it with remarkable ease. Then once he had gathered up his courage he pushed the torch through the opening. A moment later he could smell something burning. He knew it to be the rope that would drop the rock and let him in.

And just as his father had predicted the door went up and he went through. For a few minutes he searched for the rope unable to find any until he looked between two massive rocks. Once he found it he tied it tightly around the rock which he then attempted to pick up but found nigh impossible.

It took Zese a half hour or more to lift the rock and bring it to the stone stairs. From there he gently heaved it up until it was at the top whereupon he dropped it.

Instead of the rope snapping like he thought it ought to do, it held firm. Climbing down quickly he headed to the left to the door that would bring him to the next passage. He went to the right at the end and found himself face to face with a wooden door.

He put both of his hands upon it and breathed the smell in. Old, old cherry wood. Wood that was still almost in its more natural form. Pure wood.

He closed his hand upon the knob and turned. The door creaked open slowly and he entered.

Zese was startled to find himself in a room that was almost bare except for a few things. There was a golden altar and a gorgeous altarpiece that must have been painted more than two hundred years ago. In front of the altar there was a large pillow. The pillow, when he touched it, seemed to be of the highest quality silk and filled with the softest and warmest of bird feathers.

And wrapping around the room were the walls. The walls were covered in frescoes. The fresco at the right hand side of the door was the oldest and it seemed to be slowly crumbling. Zese thought it was such a shame that it was starting to fade, it would have been beautiful in its prime.

As he looked further to the right he could see the style changing, the son adding onto the father’s work. From there he could see the grandson and then the grandson’s son and so on. There almost to the end of the wall were his grandfather’s and his father’s paintings.

There next to the altarpiece was a container of paints and brushes. It was as if his body knew what to do. It headed to the paints and picked them up carefully. He turned them over in his hands trying to get the feel for them.

He returned to the wall to study his grandfather’s. At the bottom in the right hand corner was his signature, probably an earlier version of his later one. The name read quite gracefully

Diar

He smiled as he traced the signature with his fingers. He’d loved his grandfather for the small amount of time he’d known him. But now was not the time to dwell in the past so he moved onto his father’s. His father’s was much less boldly painted that his grandfather’s but it could still be considered a triumph. Slowly and painstakingly over the next few hours he completed the story: the story of Aniatea. He smiled as he painted the Princess glowing and smiling as she watched over the world.

As if his thoughts had called her he heard a melodic ringing in his ears and he travelled over to the altar where he sank down onto the pillow.

He sat there for what must have been hours but when he rose it felt like he’d just woken from a long restful nap.

But now he’d learned who his family truly were, they were oracles, the voices of the Gods.

Chapter 7: Initiation

Zese stepped out the underground chamber and stretched. He covered his mouth as he let out a gigantic yawn. His whole body shook with that yawn. He been in the chamber eating nothing and drinking only water from the well that was in the chamber for three days. He had been going through a purification ceremony to become a true oracle of the Princess. She talked to him often now that she could communicate with him. The Princess often told him of different futures, of war, of famine, of plague and secrets of the world. She even told him her name – a name that had been lost for many centuries. Her name was Lysaes. Now that he was thirteen she had decided it was time for him to become a fully-fledged oracle. Once he followed the ceremony she would inform the two other oracles and the three priestesses that still served her.

He had asked her when she had mentioned them if, “Did you tell them your name?”

“No, you’re the only one who knows my name. You’re special, far more special than you think you are. You are destined for something great.”

He cocked his head to the side. “When you say something great, what do you mean? Do you mean that I’m going to get glory, power, love?”

Lysaes smiled mysteriously and replied, “Not necessarily, being destined for something great is not always a good thing, yes, some of your heroes are always told they’re destined for something great, but being destined for something great – that is up to you. Only you can make this greatness happen, by your actions, by your words. I can only tell you a possibility – something that may come to pass.”

“Then why do you say it?”

“So many questions!” she laughed. “It is not that I mean to tell you these things. When you are in multiple worlds at once sometimes they overlap and you don’t realize that you’re speaking to a different…you. It’s very complicated and you’ll understand when you’re fully initiated.”

The conversation had sparked Zese’s interest and passion and he’d gone looking for answers. He’d pulled out the tomes of history from where his father kept them in their library. They were massive, heavy things, he could barely lift them from their spot on the top shelf. Once he had all three tomes on the table he had to find a washing cloth to wipe them down. They were covered in heavy grit, dust and deteriorating slightly of old age.

Gently he moved the dry cloth over the first cover, revealing slim paths of the actual cover. He carefully dunked a second cloth in warm water and wrung it out so it was only slightly dampened and rubbed it on the cover. As if by some magic the dust and dirt came off more easily. With each broad stroke of the steadily dirtying cloth more and more of the cover was being revealed.

At last, he thought to himself as the cover was completely revealed. The cover was gorgeous. It was made out of some type of leather and around the edges it was studded with little gems. In interesting patterns gold lines crisscrossed the cover creating a dynamic look and feel to the book. He ran his hands gently over it and down to the side where there was a lock. As he prodded his fingers against the inside of it he realized it needed a key to open.

Why do you lock a book up? He wondered to himself. But he didn’t have time to fool around; he had to get these books open so he could figure out what was going on.

For a few minutes he sat in the library thinking; trying to decide where he might find a key that would fit this book. He tapped his fingers a few more times on the book cover before going in search of his mother. He located his mother in her parlor sipping some sort of drink and reading a book. She looked up when he entered and motioned him to the chair opposite of her.

“What is it?” she asked a bit bluntly.

“Do you know where Father keeps his library keys? There’s something I want to look at but can’t unless I have the keys.”

His mother tipped her head to the side. “There’s nothing in there that’s locked that I know of. If you’re thinking those extra keys on the library ring go to something in there you’re wrong. They don’t.”

“Actually,” he began but was cut off by his mother.

“If you did find something I don’t want to hear about it. I have an extra ring of keys you can have; I don’t particularly like his library anyways.”

“I can keep them then?”

“Isn’t that what I just said?” his mother asked with some irritation as she rose from the loveseat she’d been sitting in.

“I’ll be back in a moment, don’t touch anything.”

With her sweeping skirts she left the room at a swift pace. Not more than five minutes later she returned to the room and disinterestedly handed him the keys. “Go have fun, but don’t make a mess of your father’s books. He dislikes it when his library is disorganized.”

Zese turned to leave but his mother added one last thing, “Oh, I forgot to mention, there’s going to be a ball tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, yes, it’s for your sister, she’s finally engaged. I’ll have your father help you dress tomorrow night, I’ll be far too busy with other things to truly worry about what you’re doing with your time.”

When Zese turned away he rolled his eyes; his mother seemed to adopt a whole different personality when left alone in her private rooms; in fact she often acted like she was the ruler of them all.

He opened the door quietly and left his mother to her alone time, eagerly awaiting the surprise he hoped to find in the tomes he’d left back in the library.

He found however, when he returned to the library, his father putting the tomes back onto the shelves.

“Father!” he cried out in dismay.

“Zese!” his father looked surprised. “Did you take these down?”

“Yes…I was hoping to read them.”

“Read them? Zese, there are no keys to them.”

Zese frowned. “Mother has keys that match on her library key ring…” he trailed off a little uncertainly.

Ricr held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. “Let me see, perhaps I gave them to her without thinking…”

Zese handed the keys over to his father who scrutinized them.

“Definitely the keys to these tomes. I wonder what your mother was doing with them…?”

Zese waited patiently for a few more minutes and then his father turned to him and said, “Here, just put them back where you found them when you’re done, but if you can’t reach I’ll put them back myself later.”

Zese agreed and his father left him alone in the library.

Now that he was back, Zese was slightly nervous about opening the book – what if he found some horrible unnamed evil within the book? What if it took his soul? What then?

However he knew he needed to conquer these fears and open the book –it could hold some very important information.

He wedged the key into the lock and the book snapped open, rust falling from hinges and inside the lock.

Carefully he peeled the cover back to reveal the first page. His first thought was of reverence. The inside pages were made from illuminated manuscripts and they were beautiful. They had curving lines of purples, blue, reds, greens, yellows and golds. It had to be one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen.

Then he got down to reading about the world. He made it through the first book, a history of the world’s creation and the god and goddesses. The second book was a history of the rulers and the main wars and tragic events of their country, and the last volume was a record of all the noble families since the time of their creation.

Zese felt curiosity for his own family tree and flipped through the book searching for their title: Lachance. The more he flipped through it, the more interesting it became. Their coat of arms was underneath the name Lacroix – the family of the kings of Aniatea. Lacroix was the family names for the royal family; supposedly very few in number. But the royal coat of arms was different…and why was Lachance missing? Why was the Lachance coat of arms under the name Lacroix when it was seemingly impossible?

Zese didn’t know what to feel; on one hand he had a mystery and on the other he feared what could happen if he uncovered the truth.

He thought back to Lysaes words, “You are destined for greatness” and wondered…does that greatness have to do with this mystery? Is my family somehow related to the royal family? Did we get kicked out or did we leave? Was there a fight?

If I ask father will he know the truth? Does mother? Perhaps granddaddy knew…if any of them knew why don’t they talk about it? People generally don’t talk about bad things, do they though?

Zese felt his mind turning over and over and over again.

What was he going to do?

How was he going to find the truth?

What was his destiny?

And what truly, was greatness?

As he closed the book and headed down to the chamber and to his purification ceremony.

Chapter 8: Vision

It was a room of gold, pure gold. Gold on the walls, on the ceiling, on the beams and on the pillars. Gold everywhere. Wherever the eye looked there was some sort gold. In the space that was not filled with gold there was red, crimson red; a startling contrast to the gold. The sides of the room where this crimson red and they almost looked like velvet. The draperies that framed the windows were of red velvet with gold brocade. The windows themselves were large and held thin panes of glass in them. They faced the south and towards some sort of wild land, hills mostly, and they let in much sun when the curtains were open. In the center of the room hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier also of gold and lit throughout the day. The floor was covered with thick brocaded carpets that matched the curtains but contained a unique design of flowers and shapes. Facing the windows was a dais with four steps. On the two front corners of this dais were two large golden cat sculptures. And on the top tier of this dais were two thrones, chairs really, that looked royal. Both were identical, both metal with gilded gold upon them. The seat and back were of crimson red velvet like the draperies. These chairs were side by side, the same size and in every way identical: showing that the rulers were equals. On either side of this dais there were large gilded mirrors that reflected the windows. The whole room was made to be illusionistic; with the chandelier lit and the light coming from the windows and all that light reflecting back from the mirror the room became surreal, almost mystical in nature. That was the way the original royal family had designed it. They designed it to invoke awe and wonder. And indeed, it still evoked awe and wonder when one walked through the two double doors and into the room. In the center of the room was a handsome young man, fair of skin with curling short hair. He seemed soft, not a feminine soft, but not all sharp angles and muscle, more sinew and thinness. His stance was confident, his head held high and he was gesturing wildly. For a moment he caught a glimpse of a man, older, about forty-five or fifty who looked tired as he sat at an easel. Drawing the gesticulating young man perhaps?

As soon as it had come, it was gone. Zese opened his eyes and looked directly at the altarpiece. After his purification he came down to the chamber once a week to receive a vision or knowledge from the Princess. Lysaes at times however, had nothing to give him and instead talked to him of the old days and of her childhood.

One of the persons she talked of was the Chieftain’s son, her dead husband. “I don’t know if I loved him,” she said, “My people were told by the Empress to have me marry him, that it would bring peace and prosperity.”

“And did it?”

“That is a complicated answer.”

“You say that about all my questions though!”

Her laugh was full of energy and amusement.

“In a way, yes. It did bring peace and prosperity to both our peoples. Of course you must realize this marriage was by force and I was only sixteen years old when I married him.” Her voice became thoughtful, a little sorrowful, “I died a year and four months after I married him. We had one son.”

“You died because of the Prince right?”

“Yes. He killed me. In the aftermath I learned the whole story. When I think back to it now and realize I’d caught his eye…” she paused, “I probably would have run off with him. He was a handsome devil of course, he always got his way. In a way I’m glad I didn’t end up with him – he would have destroyed my very essence.”

Zese paused as he thought about his next question.

“When you really think about it, what in the end caused you to side with the Empress?”

“I felt for her – her betrayal. I was also furious with him – as a god he was supposed to be my protector, and instead he kills me while I sleep. Then he goes and frames my husband having him killed. Now my sweet boy was left without parents. Aunty raised him well, but having your parents, there’s nothing like it.”

Zese furrowed his brow, and placed his hands firmly on the stone floor as his memory of the last time he talked to Lysaes faded.

When he stood his legs were slightly wobbly from having sat so long and when he finally staggered to the chair he placed in the corner for occasions like this pain was moving up and down his leg.

Zese patted his leg and rubbed it, hoping to loosen the tense muscles and when they finally did relax he stood and headed for the exit.

Upon exiting he found his father waiting for him.

“Father?” he queried. His father never waited for him outside the chamber, in fact once he had learned of the fact that his son was now an Oracle to the Princess he had given Zese space, so much space Zese wondered if his father was upset about something.

“Zese, I have something to tell you.”

“Yes Father?”

“We have a guest staying here, a very important guest, a guest who is very impressed with and would like to meet you. He’s seen your art around and about and would like to talk much more extensively with you.”

The boy quietly allowed his father to lead him up the stairs and to the dressing hall where he was undressed and plunged into an ice cold bath.

He gritted his teeth as one of the maids dumped water over his head as the other began to rub soap into his hair, removing grime and other substances from the chamber.

The older of the two tsked and asked, “What do you get up to that gets you so dirty?”

The younger one laughed, “It doesn’t really matter does it? He should enjoy his boyhood, after all it is the shortest walk in life.”

Zese felt a tingling run down his spine as he thought about that. His childhood was almost over, wasn’t it? He’d spent the majority of his childhood painting or riding and doing other manly things. But in the past three years he’d done less of that and taken to doing less manly things. He needed to remedy that. Perhaps he’d take his horse out today and ride through the woods just like he used to. He wondered if the fort he’d built by the river all those years ago still existed.

He stood still once he was out of the bath for the maids to dry him and then cloth him in his new clean clothes. He tugged a bit as the collar was too tight and at the shirt sleeves which were a bit too short.

Ricr came in and gave him a once over, “It seems you’ve grown since the last time that I’ve had you fitted for new clothes. I suppose we can remedy that this week.”

“Why?” Zese asked.

His father turned an eye towards him. “All will be explained once you meet the man in the downstairs drawing room.”

Zese followed behind his father at a dignified pace as thy headed to the drawing room where Zese assumed his future awaited. He wondered what in the world his father had been planning. Or perhaps his mother had said something, it would be like her too, especially if she thought it might help her and their family advance in society.

In the drawing room there was a middle aged man who frowned upon seeing Zese.

“This is him? This is the boy your wife spoke of?”

“Yes,” Ricr said, “This is my son Zese. Zese this is Boisson. He’s come from his estate in the east to employ you.”

“Employ me? In doing what?”

“Ricr, have you told him absolutely nothing?” Irritation tinged the tone of the middle aged man.

“I have not had the time. He has been busy in his pursuits.”

“I was told his pursuits were riding horses, that he was an energetic boy. This one here lacks much of those qualities. If he is weak I have no use for him.”

Ricr snorted. “Only an imbecile would think he is weak. He is sound of mind, brilliant even. He has steady hands, he has worked as a painter for some time. He also has gentle and firm hands for when he works with the horses. I don’t know what you’re seeing but if you don’t want him you don’t have to take him.”

Boisson stroked his chin as he looked out the window. Then he nodded. “Ricr, we’ve got a deal. I’ll take your son with me and I’ll train him in everything he could ever want to know.”

“I’m leaving?” Zese asked his father horrified after his new employer had left.

“Yes, of course. That’s what your mother wished. She said you’d get a better education elsewhere.”

“I can’t leave though – the – the – the secret, the secret is still…”

“Stop! Don’t tell me anything else. I’m sure everything will turn out all right in the end.”

Furious Zese ran to the chamber and poured out the story to the Princess.

“Zese,” she told him. “This is your path, your destiny. What comes next is just an extension of this. While I may not be able to talk to you as clearly, I will watch over you still. Do not worry, for this is heading towards the greatness I see.”

“What if I don’t want to be great? What if I want to be ordinary, to be with you?”

“You don’t really want that, besides the best part of your life is still ahead. Forget what they said about boyhood, when you’re older you’ll see that this change you’re so desperately afraid of was actually the thing you’ll be grateful for.”

Zese sat still on the pillow and stared at the fading altarpiece.

“What do I do now? How will I survive?”

“You will survive because you must, but also because your future depends on this training. Think of it like, mmm, perhaps a ceremony so that when we meet again you’ll be stronger. Promise me that then, when you’re stronger than you are now; mentally, intellectually and physically come to this altar and call me. Only then will I come.”

“I promise.”

Chapter 9: A New World

The journey to the new estate was one that Zese had been hesitant to make at first but once the older man was out of sight of Zese's parents he leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "Well now, how about we have ourselves a little talk."

Zese raised his eyebrows and stared at Boisson hard. "What's your game?" he asked.

"My game?"

"Everyone wants something so you must want something from me."

Boisson raised and lowered his brows before shrugging, "I suppose I can't talk you into believing me so I'll just have to show you."

Zese rolled his eyes, showing what he thought of Boisson.

Boisson studied the young man intently; and wondered at the change that had come over the boy. At the house he had acted completely docile and seemed to be very strange in his ways. But now that he was no longer in the house or the vicinity of their land he was completely changed.

He was now much wilder, seemed to care less about what people thought, had no respect for authority....

He remembered the mother saying that he had been a very troublesome child when he was younger but over the past years he'd calmed down ever since he'd gone through a family ritual.

Had he been forced? Or had it really helped? Boisson wasn't sure what to think about this fifteen year old boy. He certainly would be handsome when he was older with that wild hair of his and strong face and muscles. He would catch all the ladies’ eyes.

"Come now," he tried to induce conversation yet again, "Tell me a bit about yourself. Your mother told me you could paint and your father said you could horse ride, am I correct?"

Zese looked over at him again, "You would be."

"Why don't you draw me then? I'm sure you'd find me interesting."

"You're very boring compared to many of my subjects. Besides, I prefer to draw out of my mind. I have no need for realistic painting."

Boisson was yet again surprised, this boy challenged everything he said.

Sighing he leaned back in his seat and stared out the window as the scenery flashed by.

Had he made a mistake in picking up this young man? Or had he just found the perfect person?

Whatever the case may be, he thought, this boy will bring life back to my dull old estate.

Zese himself felt bad about being rude to the man and he couldn't help but stare out the window so he didn't have to look at the man he had worked so hard on offending.

It hadn't been hard to slip back to his old personality from childhood offending the man that he might get to go back to his own estate and away from the, it sat just under the surface of his new one. He had hoped that by one the one he would be living at for the near future.

Instead the old man had taken it all in stride and had welcomed the young man's abuse.

Why? Why? What did Boisson get out of it? He got a new worker, a new hand to help out at his estate, but why him? What made him so special?

Zese frowned at the window for a little while longer, but when he saw an inn come into sight he turned back to Boisson and began,

"I'm sorry I've been so rude. I've just been very nervous about going elsewhere. My family home was very important to me, and I'll miss them greatly while I'm here."

"Apology accepted. But I didn't imagine you as close to them, but I suppose growing up with rich parents also creates a somewhat unique personality. Have you noticed that?"

Zese had noticed that, noticed that once he began to talk to Lysaes he'd changed, his boyish, brattish attitude had faded and had left him kinder and gentler.

Now...what would happen to him now?

Zese hoped that the rest of the journey was short so he could finish this "job" as soon as possible.

The estate was large and desolate for the most part. It was also very different from his own. While his had small hills and rolling valleys, Boisson's estate had large open plains filled with tall and wild grass. There was a sense of absolute tranquility here, and in the distance he could see a large structure that seemed to be made out of stone. He looked towards it and Boisson followed his eyes.

"What are you looking at?" he asked. "That old structure?"

Zese nodded and asked, "What is it?"

"An old altar, for sacrifice I believe?"

"Sacrifice? What ancient people used sacrifice?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know. If you're interested in history and old architecture however there is another "temple" structure beyond that one. I don't know if you're interested but in your free time you're welcome to fix it up and use it to your liking."

Boisson noted how the boy's face lit up at this.

"I'd like that; thanks!"

Boisson smiled and Zese grinned back before staring as the mansion house grew larger and larger. It was a massive building that seemed to create a whole new atmosphere - much like the palace from his vision. The windows were large and wide so that he had no doubt they let in an obscene amount of light.

The doorway was a huge, heavy block of wood that had fanciful decorations on it. In fact it looked out of place on the mostly elegant structure that stood before them. Two huge towers rose on either side of the front end and the back of the mansion he was told dropped away down a slope.

"It doesn't physically drop I should say," Boisson said, "But it ends right at the edge of the slope so we added a little patio and stairs that lead down the hillside."

"What's at the bottom?"

"A garden, a labyrinth might be a better term for it."

"Who made it?"

"One of my ancestors. There's a story that goes with it, a young woman was lost inside the maze and was crying for help all that night, but no one heard her and when they did hear her it was early morning. She'd been lost in the maze all night, she was scared and crying, the lord's son could hear her. He panicked and called out to her, 'Lady! Fair Lady! Where are you?' and she called back, 'Here! I am here!' and he ran through the maze looking for her. Soon he too was desperately lost, and couldn't find his way out. He called to her again, 'My lady?' and her reply was 'Lord, you've found me.' and indeed he had, for he faced a large tomb that one could not see unless they were in the maze themselves. Fear overcame him and he turned to flee but found himself facing his oldest younger brother. This traitorous brother and the woman who was supposedly lost in the maze had orchestrated the whole thing, she actually not being lost. The oldest brother looked at the tomb again and found his name carved upon it. Terrified he lashed out at his brother in an attempt to kill him. His blow stroke the brother so hard he fell and cracked his head upon the steps where he died. The woman was enraged and she plunged the dagger into the oldest brother's back whereupon he died too. Then the woman slit her own throat, and she too died upon the steps of the tomb. The youngest brother found them all together and deduced what had happened. It was a sad and scandalous affair that rocked the nobles’ world. They talked and talked of it in the months that came, and the youngest brother was so ashamed of his family until he met a young woman. This young woman became his wife and they started a family together, however, the ending isn't so happy. For when the three boys were young their mother had sold their souls to the devil and now the devil was hell bent on taking the youngest son's soul as well. The youngest son found himself lost in the maze one night. And there in front of the tomb was the girl his older brother had orchestrated the original plot with! She smiled and looked like a little demon. It was then he realized that she was...she was truly evil! She was the devil in disguise. He fell to his knees and prayed to the Princess to save him. However she was too late and he met his death there upon the same steps that his two brothers did. The Empress however had heard of all of this and managed to save the youngest son's soul and brought him to the Afterlife. In vengeance she tied the demon's soul to the tomb in the maze and made it so she would never be able to leave it. And so it is said that three ghosts wander that maze to this day."

Zese's eyes had grown large and wide at the story. "Is it really true?"

"Well, I don't know about the Empress or the Princess but the death of the three sons and the unknown woman? Absolutely true. That was all witnessed by a maid of the house. Perhaps the maid's imagination was running wild, or perhaps not. But whatever the case that story has turned to legend and no one will set a single foot in that maze anymore."

"So it really is haunted!"

Boisson laughed. "I myself have never wanted to venture in, but the gardens and the other paths around it are wonderful to walk in. I recommend you do that as well."

At this point they had pulled up to the mansion and Boisson stepped out. "Now, Zese, over through that field there is the horses stable, and to the right there is where the servants live, they have their own houses to live in. And then everything else you can easily find. We too have a chapel on the ground here. You may make use of it if you wish."

Zese stood outside the carriage for a long moment before asking, "Where will I be staying?"

Boisson gestured to the mansion house. "In here," he said and opened the door.

The mansion house was absolutely lavish, and Zese could barely believe his eyes. "Your room is on the fifth floor at the left end. It is an empty room because I thought that you and some of the servants could go around in the other unoccupied bedrooms and pick furniture that suited your taste."

"Thank you for your hospitality," Zese told him.

Boisson's face had turned serious again. "It's not just hospitality. I'm here to train you."

"What exactly am I being trained in?"

"The art of war."

Chapter 10: To the Future

The work was grueling and hard. Although Zese was of noble blood and Boisson did what he could to show his appreciation, the work was hard and tiresome. The first week was easy, Zese got used to the new place, the new estate, a new world. The next week started off as menial labor, working in the kitchens mostly. He learned how to tell different vegetables apart, the different fruits, the different types of grain, and the methods of rolling bread, of baking, of cooking. He was essentially demoted to a kitchen boy. This kitchen duty lasted for three and a half weeks until the head chef proclaimed that he was “Sufficient. Not great, but he’ll be fine.”

Boisson had nodded and taken him to a withered old man who despite his looks was still quite limber and agile. What Zese thought was going to be a three day trip turned into a two week one where he was taught how to trap animals, how to fish, what things he could eat in the wild, what was poisonous to him, what would kill him slowly, methods for evading other hunters, how to track animals, he learned all sorts of footprint techniques, how to move quietly through the underbrush and how to blend in.

The old tracker was quite pleased with him and was insistent that he become his personal apprentice. Boisson had laughed, amused with the fact that the boy was gaining the affection of his staff so easily.

The next person he was “fostered” out to was the man who ran the kennels. From here he was taught to handle the wildly vicious half-dog, half-wolf breed. They were large animals, more wolf than dog and had a massive jaw that if it caught you would crush bone. These were not pets, they were hunters, hunters who could easily bring down a stag if ordered to.

Zese did fall in love with these creatures, he thought they were beautiful and wild, like nothing he'd ever seen before, but still, they were dangerous and he realized this. The Kennel Master asked Zese to pick one of the new pups that had been born three months before. He'd take this animal and he'd train it to be his own.

The Kennel Master warned him that if he trained this animal to be docile that it could be very dangerous. When the wild instincts came out he would be ten times more vicious than if he'd simply been trained to control his nature. Zese took this to heart and for the next nine months he worked with this dog in between mucking out horses stalls and doing yard work for Boisson's gardener.

He found himself slowly growing attached to this place and his life here. His life back at his own estate had been filled with constant boredom and worry that somehow he might offend his mother or sister in some way. Now he was as free as anyone could ever be and he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long while.

On his sixteenth birthday Boisson gifted him with a war horse. Boisson explained to him that his next lesson involved horses, war horses to be precise.

"You need to learn to ride and control them. Once they get to know you they'll become a loyal companion, they will protect you and fight for you as well as with you. At this stage you only have a very limited time frame to bond with this horse. I will show you what to do, but no matter what you must not be afraid. Showing fear shows weakness. You never want to show fear. Do you understand me?"

Zese had nodded and taken ahold of the reins of his new horse and started his training.

Boisson often watched from the outside of the ring as Zese was thrown off the stallion over and over and over. He would laugh every time it happen and tell Zese, "You're never going to get anywhere like that! Get back up and get your head on straight! Hup to it!"

Zese would climb onto the stallion’s back to almost be thrown again but after a few weeks he began to find his seat and perfect balance with the stallion. The stallion who remained unnamed began to bond with him. When Zese came into feed the horses his stallion would bang his hooves on the stall door and call out. Zese would go to him and give him a pat on the shoulder and feed him a sugar cube before returning to work. Zese fell into a pattern over the next few months of working hard and training with the stallion.

He found a noticeable improvement in his muscles, strength and stamina. When he worked with the man who taught him how to fight (brawl might have been a more accurate word) he was suddenly able to hold his own better.

The brawler had grinned at his over confidence and promptly thrown him against a wall, "Just to knock some sense into you. Never get overconfident. It's how you lose."

Zese had taken that to heart and was now soundly and firmly beating some of the young men who came to practice with him. As he strength began to develop and he began to age, he found himself in a strange situation.

He enjoyed this training more than he thought he'd would, but it had been over a year since he'd been home, since he'd seen his parents.

It was almost time to go see them, or so he thought.

Boisson had shook his head. "Not yet - you're not ready. Give me another year with you - until you're eighteen - and then you can prove to your parents that you're a different person than you were two and a half years ago. Besides you've really only got one lesson left in the art of war. You've trained in strategy, in planning, in mapping, in reading enemy lines, now there is only one thing left to do. Finish your weapons training. I have a swords master who can teach you better than I have. But it will be tough and difficult training. If you believe yourself to be weak of heart, go home now. But if you'd like a chance to prove that you're no longer a weakling stay and take the challenge."

Zese raised his head. "I don't back down from a challenge no matter what it is."

"I knew you'd choose the right choice. I never doubted you."

The young man turned on his heel and walked towards the main house, confidence in his step.

"My, my," Boisson murmured, "He's certainly grown. I knew I had picked the right lad for this job. He will become a hero at the end of this all. His mother should be pleased at least."

Boisson headed to the hall after Zese as he marveled at the idea that he had been the one to turn the boy into this young man so successfully.

Truthfully if he thought about it, it wasn't just him who had trained him. There had been multiple, multiple people who had made him into who he now was.

The old tracker was cackling as he waved a hare in the air. "Zese my boy! How do you feel about, hrrm, hare? I betcha could ask the kitchen staff for some of those, hrrm, vegetables. We could have ourselves a nice fancy victory dinner!"

Zese smiled kindly at the old man. "Sorry old man, I don't think I can tonight but I'll have the maids come down with some of those vegetables for you to eat if that's okay."

The old tracker sighed a bit sadly, "If you insist."

Zese waved his hand and walked through the front doors.

Boisson had watched the exchange and felt a strange sensation come over him. A year ago Zese would never have acted as coldly as he had done there. Had he helped that cold personality of his along? He felt his eyes close. Tomorrow would for sure affirm this new personality.

And when tomorrow came Zese found himself in deep trouble. As strong as he was the sword he was wielding was giving him trouble, he had trouble dodging while staying on the defensive. The swords master laughed every time he missed or was struck by the sword on his heavy padding.

"Stupid boy! You need more talent! More training!"

Boisson saw that Zese was becoming infuriated and attacking violently and wildly now.

"No, no not like that!" the swords master reprimanded him. "More grace, more elegance! Like so!" And he went through a series of movements to illustrate his point.

Zese snarled and managed to only slightly mimic him.

The days began to pass and Zese's improvement wasn't immediately obvious. But as the months began to pass and he had the basics down, it was then the improvement was seen. He went from fighting on his own two feet to fighting atop horses and on roofs, in large spaces and in small spaces, indoors and out.

As the day of his eighteenth birthday rapidly approached Zese's spirit seemed to bloom with a strange fiery fierceness.

And then, the day of his eighteenth birthday arrived. Boisson looked into his hard eyes, to his hard stance and frame.

No longer a boy, but a man. No longer just a noble man, but a warrior.

A true soldier of war.

 

Chapter 11: Eian’s Beginning

Eian stood still as snow came down around him. It was cold, wet and miserable. He raised his hand and planted it on the stone in front of him. That too was hard and cold. He could feel his heart pulsing with each moment singing, “You’re alive, you’re alive,” but his parents were not. They were dead, dead and gone. He let his eyes trail downwards to the fresh flowers he had placed at the grave site and all he wanted to do was kick them. His grandmother stood a little distance away watching him. He could feel her eyes on him and he hated it; hated the world, hated, hated, hated. How could such good people be taken in such a cruel way? Why? He looked towards the heavens and cursed it, cursed his fate, the gods, and everyone who had perpetuated this event.

As he stood there his anger grew and simmered just beneath the surface. He wanted revenge. Revenge for his parent's deaths and he would get it no matter how long it took him. He'd train until he'd gained strength, then he'd hunt the man who had caused this. He would not be allowed to live no matter what.

Blose stood still watching her grandson's facial expressions. She'd seen that look on a similar boy seven years ago when they'd first met. She felt for him deeply and wondered what she could do to relieve his pain. Her daughter, her beloved daughter was dead. Murdered. Murdered by some unknown man. For some unknown cause. And she knew how her grandson was thinking, revenge, he wanted to kill whoever had killed his family. She did too, she wanted their death more than anything in the world.

At the same time she knew that it was not realistic. There would be no vengeance and Eian would be stranded in poverty.

As Eian would be stranded in poverty, he would never be able to gain anything special from his life; anything he had hoped to achieve; anything his parents had been working for would now be useless. There would be no hope and Blose felt pain for this. She wanted her grandson to have a good life, but it looked like he would lack the means to get himself a decent future.

Blose took a breath and came forward resting her open palms on his shoulders.

"How do you feel about schooling?" she asked.

Eian looked up at her with dead eyes, "Schooling?" He asked.

She nodded, "Reading, writing, arithmetic, that kind of thing."

Eian frowned. "It'd sure be interesting. Why?"

"Because I can enroll you in a school that takes poor boys and gives them a chance for a future."

"A chance? And what type of school is this exactly?"

Her mouth thinned a bit. "I'd think you'd be happy to have any chance at a better life: a life your parents so desperately wanted to give you."

"What does it entail?"

"In this school you get an education, but after that education and towards the end of it, you are fostered out to noble lords who could use your help."

Eian bowed his head. "By help you do mean chores, kitchen duty, stable boy, pretty much we do menial chores until we pay back our education right?"

Blose nodded in a quick and fast movement. "Yes. Technically you'll be indentured. You'll simply pay back the debt with chores. They can keep you no longer than three years. And who knows if they like you enough they may desire you to stay on with them."

Eian swallowed. "When would I go?"

"You'd go as soon as I have things settled and prepared."

"Would I come home at all?"

She shook her head. "They won't let you see your parents. Or family," she said rightly guessing his next question. "You'd be on your own, but then you'd also have a chance for a future you might not get otherwise."

"I'll take it," Eian whispered a little hoarsely.

Blose pulled him close and hugged him. "I know it may seem tough right now, but I promise you it will be worth it in the end. When I went to finishing school I hated it, but now I look back on it with fond memories and realize just how much it helped me."

Eian put his arms around her neck and hugged back. "Thank you, Grandma."

"Oh Eian, I'm so sorry. I wish, I wish that there had been something to be done. Something to erase this horrible memory of yours." She carefully smoothed his hair back. "They say though, that things like this make you stronger in the end. That its things like this that give you the most strength to fight for what you want, to fight for what you believe in. I'm not sure that it holds true, but remember no matter where your parents are they will be guiding and watching over you."

The boy didn’t know about that, but he certainly knew one thing.

Eian knew he was thankful that his grandmother had offered him this chance. Perhaps if he went to school and learned something, perhaps, just perhaps, he'd be able to find his mother's killer. As his grandmother turned away from him he looked down at the grave and knelt. He kneeled in the snow for a while, thinking about his mother and all the good times that they'd had in their time together. Carefully he leaned his forehead against her grave and whispered,

"I promise you," he reached out a hand and placed it on his father's grace, "I promise you both, that I will do my best to find your murderer and avenge you. I know that you probably wouldn't have wanted me to do this, but I feel that I must have a goal to work towards until I find a new goal. I want you to be proud of me. Remember Father, how you always told me that my future was so bright, that as long as I worked, as long as I kept going that I could do anything? That no matter what to keep going, to never step off the path, but to always look forward? Mother, you always tell me stories, you would tell me stories of heroes and villains and you always said that just because you don't believe the same thing as someone else doesn't make them wrong or evil? That there is always a grey area and that nothing is easy? That if things were easy to obtain they'd mean a lot less. That's why you always said futures were so hard to obtain, we're meant to achieve them? I miss you both...I miss you both so much and I promise to work as hard as I can to achieve my future and the goals I set."

He stood from the snow and looked up towards the sky and shouted, "I will never stop!"

Blose heard this shout and smiled. She'd given Eian something to work towards, something to look forward to. She only hoped it didn't end in tears and unhappiness. She'd seen enough suffering to last her a lifetime.

Eian trotted up to her and took her hand. "Grandma, when can I leave? I believe I have a lot of things to do!"

Blose laughed and patted the hand she held. "As soon as I send a request letter, then you can go."

Carefully they sidestepped the carriage traffic and walked on the side of the road together back to the small house that Eian's parents had left him.

It was a quaint little thing, it stood in the middle of the city, not terribly large although it was pretty. It had three bedrooms, a sitting room, a kitchen and an outdoor bathroom. The walls outside were painted an off white with red trim that matched the color of the bricks on the houses that framed theirs.

Eian unlocked the door and he and his grandmother stepped into the room. Blose had lived here with them since her return. She never spoke of her journey or the ship she had been on.

Eian remembered the stories his mother used to tell, her worry that her mother wouldn't return. She had told all of this to him one of the days after Blose's return. She had cried that night and held him close to her. His father had found them and had sat and stroked his wife's hair as she sobbed.

That night for the first time in years they'd all slept in the same bed together, one happy family.

Eian missed those types of family moments more than anything.

He missed his parents.

He set his teeth as he went to his bedroom, from now on he'd only do things that his parents would be proud of, things that would help him accomplish his goal.

 

Chapter 12: School & Allies

Eian arrived at the designated spot with a single bag and the clothes on his back. No books, no fancy materials or clothing. All he had that spoke of the fact that he was going to a more "advanced" school was a letter of introduction the school had sent him when they had accepted him.

He held this tightly in his left hand and in his right was a bag. His breath hung on the air as the cold wind blew and shifted the scarf he wore around his neck. He moved from foot to foot as he tried to stay warm but the cold continually seeped through to his skin. He shivered and tried to huddle more firmly into his coat but it was impossible. The wind was simply too chilly. His hands were bare as after buying the new coat he wore he had run out of money. Now he had no choice but to stand here in this freezing weather and wait for the carriage to come pick him up.

The way the school had the boys delivered to it was by having several boys arrive at a designated time and waiting spot and then taking the boys all back together. They claimed this encouraged friendship and comradeship amongst boys who might not otherwise speak to each other.

Eian found that there were only two other boys waiting. Neither were talking to him, but they were talking to each other. Eian didn't know how to feel - they were dressed nicely, fancy breeches and socks, wonderful waistcoats and vests with starched shirts. Their coats were handsomely made and were decorated with brocade. Their boots and scarves too were of the finest quality.

The boy felt overwhelmed at the fact that although this school was for poor boys too it was also a school for the rich. Every so often the other two boys glanced over at him and whispered to each other.

Eian knew what they were saying without having to hear it. He knew they were talking about how raggedy his clothes were. His shirt was torn in several places as well as being too short. His pants were beat up around them hem and it was obvious that a section had been added to make them seem longer than they actually were. His shoes were old and beat up, they barely fit him because they were hand-me-downs from some young man who had grown out of them.

He knew he should feel no embarrassment, but now that he was actually on his way he was. All his earlier convictions about doing well and getting revenge had faded over the two weeks leading up to this day. He found that things were never so simple as he wished them to be. Carefully he placed his bag on the ground and stuffed his letter of introduction into his coat pocket and then crossed his arms to get his hands warm while he waited for the carriage to arrive.

Finally one of the boys came up to him and stuck out a hand. "I'm Berul. Who are you?" he asked.

Eian gripped the other boy's hand a little timidly. "I'm Eian."

Berul looked at him. "Last name? Although Eian is very unique..."

The young boy blushed to the roots of his hair. "I...don't know it."

The other boy who had now joined them raised his eyebrows. "You don't have a last name? Or do you not know how to read and write? Do you not have a father or something?"

Eian cleared his throat, "I had a father. I also had a mother. They died not too long ago...but I don't know if they ever had a last name. And I can read and write a bit. I'm not totally illiterate."

"But you came from a poor family right?"

"I suppose so. There were those who were much poorer than I was."

The older of the two rich boys nodded. "I see. Well, I'm sure you'll be fine here. Do you have any other living relatives?"

"Just a grandmother. She's the one who sent me here. She said getting an education might help me in the world."

"Well she was right in that at least." the younger rich boy sniggered.

The older one rolled his eyes and pointed to the other one, "I forgot to introduce him. He's my younger brother Dunui."

"Pleased to meet you," Eian gave a little bow. He shuffled his feet a bit and looked away.

"If you're poor," the younger brother began, "you really have to have a talent to get into school, what's yours? You work in a cathouse or something?"

Eian felt his jaw tighten and he resisted snapping back a sharp reply, and instead said, "Yes, I did."

Dunui's eyes widened. "You're not serious are you? I was only - mostly - joking!"

"I'm dead serious," Eian leveled his gaze at Dunui. Then he felt a small smile twitch on his lips. "Well, I did work for them for a commission. I did a painting for them."

The older boy laughed in what sounded like relief. "You're a painter! You worked for them because you did a commission!" After a moment once he'd regained his breath he shook his head. "Amazing, a painter! You must be really talented then because painters aren't normally accepted. They're too boring."

Eian did his little shuffle again and raised his shoulders in an up and down motion. "I don't know. I only know that I got accepted." He breathed a little sigh of relief when the two boys stopped talking but almost as soon as he'd had that though Berul turned to him and said, "You know, at this school there are boys who act as "older brothers" to younger boys. They provide them with tutoring, help and oftentimes gifts. Sometimes a rich boy will even sponsor a poor one. Does it interest you? Of course you would need to pay me something for this help as things don't always come free..."

Eian hesitated. "What kind of payment?" he asked.

"I want you to paint whatever I choose."

Eian looked at his feet. "I'll do it." he said. If I can get on this rich boys good side and get him to support me I can start to make my future.

The carriage finally arrived and the three boys boarded it. The two rich boys were excitedly talking to one another now that they'd gotten going and seemed to completely forget that Eian even existed. It was halfway through the ride when they pulled out their food to have lunch that they acknowledged Eian again.

"So Eian, what did you bring for lunch?" the younger brother asked.

Eian shifted uncomfortably on his seat. "I...didn't bring anything."

"You didn't bring anything?" the older brother asked. "Why ever not? You knew this was going to be a day long journey didn't you?"

Eian was embarrassed again. "I knew."

"So what was the problem?"

Eian muttered something and the oldest boy told him, "Speak up, we can't understand you when you mumble like that? Why must you mumble anyways?"

Eian lifted his head and murmured as quietly as possible, "I couldn't afford it."

"Couldn't afford lunch?" the youngest brother broke in again, "That's exceedingly cheap!"

Eian blushed. "I couldn't even afford mittens. The money I had went into buying this coat so I wouldn't freeze. It's not my fault I'm poor!"

Eian was starting to get agitated and he shifted restlessly on the seat. "You two may have never experienced it, but living below the lowest class? You get used to not getting things you want or having food to eat. As long as I have water I can go for three days without eating if I need to."

"Three days? Why in the world would you go three days without eating?!"

"Sometimes you have to, sometimes there's no other way to get by and survive. There are those sicker or younger or older or weaker than you that need the food more. So you give it to them and hope that when you're in a bad spot they'll help you out."

"That's absolutely horrifying," the older brother told him.

Dunui jumped in, "Did anyone you know die?"

"Of course," Eian said, "people die all the time out there and there's nothing you can do. My little sister died before she even turned one."

Berul sighed. "I'm sorry, we have a younger sister as well. I can't imagine the pain you went through when you lost her."

Eian shook his head. "I was still little then, so I don't really remember it. My parents never talked about it either, but they also never had another child aside from me. They feared the child's death. Even just having me made their living situation hard. I always hated my existence for a long time until my mother told me that she couldn’t care less if we were homeless as long as she had me."

"Really," the younger brother spoke up, "Our mother would never say anything like that. She's too professional for that. She also knows that words of affection are a detriment to boys. We need tough love and even tougher handling. I wonder if you'll even be able to handle this school at all."

Berul put an elbow into his brother's side and hissed, "Shut up," as they began to roll up to huge iron gates.

Berul then turned to Eian again and said, “This is the second leg of our journey. This is land owned by the school – but it takes a good few hours to reach the main school grounds. The areas out here are just to keep us further away from the main road.”

Dunui grinned. “Yeah, because they plan to murder us all!” he shouted gleefully and Eian shrunk back against the seat.

“Ignore him,” Berul said. “He’s a cruel type of person. Mother has had far too much influence over him.”

He patted Eian’s leg and thumped his brother on the shoulder before turning to look out the window. “Just a little longer and then we’ll arrive…”

Quiet descended in the carriage as the three boys awaited their future.

Chapter 13: Studies

The rain sloshed down the school room windows. The air was dead and quiet, hot too despite the cool air outside. Eian sat in his seat, quiet and still. Over the past three months he had found himself warming up to this school and the people in it.

Despite all the rumor mongering the teachers were actually kind and willing to work with the students, and Eian had found an ally in one of his teachers, Professor Loge. Professor Loge was an elderly man who taught history to the "underclassmen". He always started class with an interesting fact and engaged them in discussion. After the discussion period he would lead them into what they were going to do in class.

He found that he truly loved history and all his designs for revenge began to fade as he grew more and more interested. At the same time he knew that painting was his passion as well. He took his history lessons and painted them how he saw them in mind's eye.

He smiled as he thought about the most recent painting he was working on. It was a dramatic piece from ancient times when the Princess was wandering the streets crying. He quite enjoyed drawing night scenes, there was always something intriguing about them. A ruler was tapped on his desk and he looked up at the math teacher who was looking down at him with disapproval.

"I'd appreciate it if you paid attention in class young man." He said sharply before moving on and continuing his lecture.

Eian didn't have a head for math, he truly didn't understand it. All he got from it was that if you added numbers and subtracted numbers you could easily figure out answers to certain questions. That was all he needed to know, he'd never use math again once he finished his schooling.

Eian carefully shifted in his seat as he scribbled a note to himself on a piece of paper. 'Remember to look up magioin'

He had first heard the word magioin from another of the boys who roomed with him. When he had asked the boy what it meant he'd been laughed at and told, "Look it up for yourself'.

So as soon as the class ended Eian intended to go to the library and look up possible meanings of the word.

When the bell for the end of class rang at last he gathered up his books quickly and dashed out of the room at a breakneck pace. He nearly knocked over a few students in the process.

He pushed open the library doors with a bang and got shushed by the only librarian on duty before she turned back to cataloguing the books that had just been returned.

Eian went up to her and asked, "Do you know where I could find a book on words?" he asked. "Particularly foreign words."

The librarian gave him a once over before nodding, "It's a small section at the back of the stacks. We don't have more than fifty books on the subject." She shrugged, "No one has ever really been interested in them, so we only keep a small selection as an 'in case of emergency' thing."

Eian blinked and shrugged, he didn't care why as long as they had what he was looking for.

"Oh," she told him as he turned to leave, "some might be high up, but there's a stool you can stand on to reach the higher shelves. There's also seats back there that you can read in. If you need paper it's there too."

The boy nodded and moved to the back shelves. He found himself staring one case of books. The librarian was right, there weren't more than fifty here. Many of them looked to be extremely old and he was intensely wary about touching them. It looked as if they might actually fall apart if he picked one up.

Carefully he bent down and peered at their spines. Some were written in a foreign language others written in the global language. He started pulling those off the shelves until he had a huge pile on the table.

He picked the first one off the top and then began to go through it. He quickly found that this research was much harder than it looked.

He flipped another page but there still wasn't anything for him to use in these books. In agitation he slammed the book shut and leaned his head on his arms. He wanted to know what the word meant, because he was sure that it was an insult, a very well hidden insult, but an insult nonetheless.

He drew a circle on his notes before sighing and pulling the last few books off the bookshelf. In the third to last book he found a mention of the word that he was looking for.

Magioin, a magic user. Also used as an insult, for someone who uses magic for bad purposes, wrong means or magic is not inherent to them. Used a few centuries ago. No longer in use. (that is known)

Interesting, Eian thought to himself, that they would use such an obscure insult against me. I'm not a magic user, I've never even known anybody who could use it, it's such a rare gift.

He paused for a moment as he read the next couple of lines, Also used in reference to women or men working in a cathouse.

So, he thought, that was probably their intention from the start, to say that I'm a whore. Lovely, he thought.

He closed the books and placed them back on the shelves before nearly running out of the library in haste. He had too much homework to do to be loitering about anymore.

As he was heading back he ran into Berul who grinned at him. "I heard you got in trouble in math today for not paying attention."

"It wasn't that bad," Eian protested. "I just had a lot of other things on my mind. Someone called me a magioin and I had to go look it up. I didn't know what it meant."

Berul's eyes flared and he snapped, "Who called you that?"

"Just some idiots who don't know any better. Leave them be Berul. You don't need to defend me every time something bad happens. You can't save me all the time."

Berul scowled. "I can try. I want to keep you around because I actually do like your paintings and it'd be a shame to loose such a talented artist so early."

Eian shook his head as he headed back to his dorm room. "Well, I'll see you later. Give Dunui my sympathies. I heard his girlfriend broke up with him."

The older brother smothered a laugh as he too headed back to his own dorm. "I'll be certain to tell him. I'll see you later Eian!"

Eian waved a hasty goodbye and quickly weaved his way through the students and towards his dorm.

Once inside his dorm and flopped down onto his bed feeling slightly miserable. He knew that Berul tried to do what he thought was right but the last time he had only further aggravated an already tense situation.

Eian picked at his fingernails as he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. If only there was a way to become stronger and seen as less of an idiot and weakling. Eian knew he wasn't strong, he was rather weak. But he also knew he was weak due to malnourishment his whole life as well as the fact that stress caused health issues too. His dead uncle had been a doctor for some time and had been researching such unique ideas.

A few moments later he pulled himself off the bed and to his desk where a pile of papers sat. He flipped through them quickly as he skimmed their contents. There was nothing interesting in them.

He tapped a pencil on the table as he thought about the letter he wanted to write his grandmother.

Dear Grandmother,

I know this letter is rather late, but I've been very busy with classes. I'm sure you understand that. In the past few months a lot of things have occurred. The first of which I mentioned to you a while back. I met these two rich boys who agreed to sponsor me. One seems to have taken a liking to me. He tends to say he'll beat up anyone who insults me. I rather think that's because they're insulting his family name through me. I pay those insults no mind however, there are far more important things to be doing. Of, my schooling is going well. I'm doing well too. My classes are fine and I think I'm really starting to enjoy my time here, Grandma. I can't thank you enough for this chance. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you and my deceased parents proud. I can promise you that.

Love forever,

Eian.

Chapter 14: Magic

The dare had gone very, very wrong. Eian clung to the side of the building as his hands scrabbled for purchase. His breathing was staggered as he struggled to grip the top of the building. He glanced down and felt his heart stop beating for a moment.

He closed his eyes for a moment before he pulled up with his arms struggling to get a grip. It happened suddenly and quickly though. It was a second’s miscalculation, he had moved his hand to get a better grip but the hand still on the rim of the building slid and he let go.

The air rushed past him with a quickness that felt unbelievable. In his mind he was thinking, stop, stop, STOP. His body jerked to a full stop and he kept his eyes closed waiting for the pain to set in and for his death to occur. But it didn’t happen. All he could feel was the tug and pull of the air.

Then he heard the voices. The voices below and above him,

“My god…” he could hear one person breathe.

“He’s…he’s…”

“He’s floating!”

“No…he’s hovering!”

“Is he dead?”

“What’s causing that?”

Eian tried to block out their voices as he concentrated on the voice in his mind.

‘Boy…what are you doing?’

Eian shook his head and felt the thoughts come again, ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ it asked.

Eian clapped a hand to his head. The voice spoke again very gently ‘Do you need help?’

‘YES!’ he cried out in his mind.

He felt a gentle hand wrapping around his wrist and a burning, searing sensation.

His eyes began to water and tear up as the sensation of pain began to fade. The voice spoke again, ‘I am a Source. I am Isia. I am power. I give you the power of magic, of the source. Through me you are able to harness and use this power.’

‘Magic…I thought only those born to magic could use it. Not only that most magic users are dead or insane! Will I go insane?’

‘You will not go insane. Those who went insane were not born to it – they chained us and forced our magic from us. The Original Source destroyed them.’

‘But…my family aren’t magic users!’

‘Really?’ the voice questioned. ‘You believe that? I can tell you that the magic resides in you. The power to use the Source lives in this body of yours. It isn’t very powerful right now…but that can change!’

‘It can?’

‘Of course! All you need is practice…I can help you with that.’

Eian reached out into the air where he thought he heard the voice. ‘I accept!’

The burning sensation came back to his wrist and faded much slower this time but now when he opened his eyes he could see Isia hovering over him. She was beautiful, glimmering, shining in the air. She was almost translucent she was so white, so silver, and so pale. Her hair was wispy and wild and of a silver color. It flowed as if there was wind blowing it. The dress she wore was a creamy white, and she was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen.

‘It is the source,’ she said, ‘The magic is so powerful that if any human touches, if any human becomes a Source they turn pure. This pureness causes them to become the colors of purity, white and silver. Sometimes we will have tints of blue as well.’

‘Will I turn silver?’

‘Only if you become a Source.’

‘I meant…now that I’ve accepted you, will…will my hair turn silver?’

Isia looked at him, her steel blue eyes sharp and focused. ‘Perhaps once you start using magic. There is no way to really know.’

Eian bit his lip. ‘Okay so…how do I get down from here?’

Once he was on the ground again the Head Master was there in front of him, a frown creasing his face.

‘He can’t see me,’ Isia told him. ‘Only you can.’

Eian didn’t nod for fear of the Head Master seeing.

“Young man, what was that? Who was doing that? Were you doing that? You do know that by capturing magic you are breaking the law right?”

‘What do I tell him?’

‘The truth.’

“I didn’t capture the magic, sir. The magic came to me. It talked about being a Source and…stuff. I found it all rather confusing in point of fact. She mentioned something about the Original Source?”

The Head Master’s eyebrow arched. “I quite wonder where you found this information. It is not public knowledge as no one in the past, hmm, fifty years or more has been able to bond correctly with a Source. Those descendants of the magic users for some reason lost the ability. We were never able to figure out why.”

‘Do you know why?’

‘No, even we do not know. The Original Source has said nothing, so I can only presume he did it for a certain reason. We do not ask questions, we simply follow orders.’

“Oh. I’m sorry if I upset you sir, it was never my intention. But I am telling the truth…” he paused.

‘Can I tell him your name?’

‘You may.’

“Her name is Isia.”

“Isia?” the Head Master repeated. “Interesting. Well young man, I unfortunately will have to impose some punishment on you –“

Berul dashed up, “But sir! He did nothing wrong, or perhaps you didn’t know? You came from a poor family right, one that was slightly illiterate?”

Eian clenched his teeth. “Sort of,” he responded a little angrily.

The Head Master still shook his head, “Laws are in place for a reason, but because you are a child I will say nothing, but I also cannot allow you to stay here and influence the other students. You must leave campus in the next three days or I will have to have you forcibly removed.”

Berul shouted, “He’s been here for five years; you know him, you know most of your students! He is a top student!”

“That may be, but it still doesn’t excuse his actions. I’m sorry, but you will have to go.”

Eian swallowed and turned from the Head Master. Behind him he heard Berul spit, at the man’s feet, “My family will be taking our business elsewhere as well then.”

Eian didn’t see but he could almost hear the Head Master’s eyes widening as he pleaded with Berul, “But…you can’t! Your family has been students at my school for generations! You’re one of our best donors and benefactors.”

“Please don’t expect this month’s payment or anymore checks in the future. Good day.”

Eian felt a hand on his arm, and Berul murmured, “I’m sorry. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

The fifteen year old shook his head. “No, no, it’s no problem. I was getting ready to leave anyways. There’s not much left for me here anyways.”

“Not much?” Berul questioned, “Well what are you going to do after this then?”

Eian shrugged. “I’m going to start researching the different, ah, groups that reside in my home city. I still want to search for my parents’ killer.”

Berul lowered his head. “I always knew that revenge was your number one goal…but is it all that? My family can support you, you can even bring your grandmother!”

“It’s a kind offer, and I’d like to take it up on my grandmother’s behalf, but I fear I can’t. I owe you too much already.”

“You don’t,” Berul told him softly, and turned towards him, “You really don’t. I decided to, after I got to know you better, continue bribing you because I liked you. I liked being around you,” they’d reached a niche in the wall outside the school building when Berul planted both his hands on Eian’s shoulders.

“Eian, let me protect you. Let me help you, I want to be there for you.”

Eian touched his arm gently. “Thank you…it’s much appreciated, but I still feel that I’d be imposing.”

“You know my father loves you! Despite the fact mother dislikes you’re poor she loves your art. She’d accept you.”

Eian shook his head. “No. The only way I’d accept your offer was to work for you in exchange for bed, roof and food.”

Berul quieted and stepped forward leaning in close to Eian’s face. “I will miss you once you leave. But there’s no point in staying if you’re not here.” He pulled away and looked over his shoulder.

“Good luck Eian, I hope to see you soon.”

The younger boy watched him go feeling slightly sad at the loss of a friend he didn’t realize he’d had.

He leaned against the wall as Isia spoke in his mind, ‘You are hurting. I’m sorry. I remember that human feeling.’

‘You were once human?’

‘Some of us, yes. Other’s no. I was…part human and part Source. My father fell in love with his Source. I was their child. The thing is though, my mother died because of the birth. A life for a life. My human father grieved, but he saw that I looked human. Both my father and the other Sources figured I was human but once I turned seventeen I suddenly stopped aging. For ten years I didn’t age. Then another ten passed and I still didn’t age but my hair began to grow lighter. Another ten and again there still was no aging. This continued until I was fully transformed. I became a source.’

‘Am I your only…partner?’

‘No, there were others. They die though, typically after having an extremely long lifespan they do die.’

‘How much longer?’

Isia looked uncomfortable. ‘One lived for over two hundred years.’

‘Will that happen to me?’

‘Only if you want it to. There is much that can be done with magic, it does not grant immortality but it can grant longevity.’

‘I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.’

‘Magic is a grey area, Eian. There is truly evil and truly good and there must be a balance. That’s what the Sources and their users were supposed to be doing. We were supposed to be creating a balance in the world. Now we can start again.’

‘Start again?’

‘You. You are going to be our future!’

 

Chapter 15: Practice

'Now,' Isia whispered to him, 'hold the thought in your mind, form it, shape it. Then you can release it. As you get better it'll take less and less time. Right now, you're too unskilled to try anything else.'

"Thanks," Eian told her wryly. "So what am I trying?"

Isia smiled, 'We're going to make an altar.'

Eian's eyebrows rose as he stood in front of her and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond to that.

'You'll have to work with the earth, so go on, sit down.'

The young man glanced around the area pointedly. They were standing in a woods that seemed to stretch on forever and the large trees blocked out much of the sunlight, and the little that filtered through was green-yellow in color. It was almost ethereal in nature and it made Eian slightly uncomfortable to be standing in a place that seemed to sacred.

"It seems too sacred to work in though!" he protested.

Isia glanced down at him, 'So you noticed. But that's okay. I got permission from the tree spirits to work here. When you work in an area that is sacred power is easier to draw on and use.'

Eian nodded, "Fine then. You said I was going to be working with the earth, what exactly did you mean?"

'Sit down first,' Isia said, 'then I'll explain everything to you.'

Eian sat on the ground crossing his legs. He looked up at Isia as she hovered over him.

'Good,' she smiled and placed her hands on his head, 'Now begin to breath, slow, even, deep breaths. Feel the air around you, feel the power that flows.'

Eian's brow crinkled as he focused on his breathing.

'You're focusing too hard, relax, don't think, let yourself just feel.'

"How can I do both?" he muttered to himself.

'You'll have to learn,' Isia told him severely. 'Now, try again. We can practice until you can feel the power flowing through you.'

Eian took another deep breath, then another, and another, and his body began to relax, began to become weightless as his mind and spirit began to connect more easily with each other, and then, There.

There. There. There. He could feel the power in the air flowing around him. It was bright and fresh and strong. He swallowed as Isia took her hands away.

'Form a picture of an altar in your mind, any will do. Tell me once you have done this.'

The young man quickly began to form an image, one he'd seen in a book about an old altar. "Okay," he told Isia, "I've got the picture in my mind."

'Now begin to channel it down into the earth. You want stone, so call upon the stone in the earth.'

Eian let his glance focus downwards as he called upon the white stone that was natural to this region. And before his eyes it began to rise up from the ground.

'Do you still have the picture in your mind?' Eian nodded. 'Then start building.'

As quickly as it had begun, it was just as quickly over.

Isia sighed. 'Well done. This is only the beginning of what you're able to do. Soon you'll be able to do more. In the future the magic will instinctually react to what you want it to do. At that point it'll be very easy to cast magic and use spells. The truth of it is magic should be natural. The Users who use magic for things that are not natural very quickly find themselves struggling to use it. The magic and the Sources are inherently ingrained in the world. Thus, air, water, fire, earth, light and darkness. These six elements are those that you can use. Make the wind blow, turn water into ice, create fire, shape the earth, and create light and dark.'

Eian swallowed a bit nervously.

'Don't look at me like that. It takes at least three years to become a master in magic.' She told him. 'It won't happen all at once.'

"That's not what I'm worried about - is it, is it possible to go evil through using magic?"

Isia turned towards him and nodded. 'Yes. I won't lie to you. It is possible, very, very possible to go 'evil' as you put it through magic. I'd like to say it is uncommon but it really isn't. There's more to it than simply 'going evil' but it takes time to explain and I don't want you worrying about it right at this moment.'

"Will I go evil?"

Isia leveled her sharp gaze at him. 'Unlikely. You are pure right now. Pure of heart, mind, spirit and body. It is not necessary to be pure in all those things but it does help at times.' She placed her hands on his head. 'When you get to a certain point in using magic you want to use it for everything you do. That is misuse of power. What you can do without magic, you should do without. Magic was always supposed to be used to protect people.'

Eian grinned, "I like that. Using magic to protect people."

'You would,' Isia grinned back. 'Now, let's say we continue, hmm?'

Eian nodded to her and planted his hands firmly on the ground again to soak up the earth. "So what am I going to be doing now?"

'Nothing with the earth, this time I want you to use the air. Make the wind blow.'

Eian caught his tongue between his teeth and focused on the element. Slowly a breeze ruffled the otherwise quiet forest.

Isia gave him a little clap, 'Again, well done.'

"It's getting easier even though it's only the second time."

'As it should. The magic is starting to get to know you and respond to you as such. We've done air and earth. It's a little risky to use fire, but see if you can grow a small fire in your palm, you know, like a flame, a candle's flame.'

Carefully Eian began to search for the elements in the air, and soon found that fire was very different. It was volatile and didn't want to work with him. He'd never thought they'd have personalities, but they did. These elements existed free-floating where ever he went...sighing he grappled with his mind and made it focus while he quietly contained the fire in the sphere of his mind and channeled it to his palm where it grew into a steady flame.

This time Isia's mouth fell open.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

'I wasn't...expecting you to actually do it!'

"Wasn't expecting - you mean you knew that I'd probably fail?"

'I wanted to show you that not all elements were willing to work with you. Fire is by the far the most stubborn. But once you learn and acknowledge them and prove your strength they become willing to work with you. Anyways you did much better than I thought you would.'

"Thanks, I guess," Eian muttered and let the flame slowly gutter out in his palm.

'Now try water,' Isia commanded.

Eian opened his mind to the elements as he searched for water. When he found it he called out, asking it to come to him. And it did. Then in front of him a small pool of water developed from nothing. He grinned as he dipped his fingers in it. The water was cool and refreshing as he licked it off his fingers.

'It's pure, which is why it tastes the way it does.'

"Hmmm," Eian didn't respond as he looked for light. "I'm going to look for light and dark now."

'Don't!' Isia commanded. 'Light and dark are completely different from the other four elements. Until you can well and truly control the main four we won't do anything with light and dark. If you are unprepared it can end in utter disaster.'

Eian bowed his head. "Why're they so much harder?"

'They're much more volatile, and they're not the elements as we think of them. It's difficult to explain. But using them is dangerous, they're like the line that divides good from evil. Use them even very briefly the wrong way they can turn you mad, make you evil or do all of the above. One mistake could cost you your life.'

Eian's hand gripped his shirt. "Sorry."

'No need to be sorry. Just understand that at this point I don't want you to use magic without my permission. It can kill you. Any of it can kill you.'

Eian clasped his hands together and looked up. "So, what now?" he asked.

Isia looked down at him with her gentle smile and Eian thought again how beautiful and kind she was. Her eyes narrowed. 'Now we do it all again. We practice until you can't stand, until you need sleep, food and water. We won't stop until you've completed your training. We won't stop until you become as powerful as you can be. You truly are our future.'

He blinked. "Why do you say that? I'm your future. I don't understand."

'Again, that's something better left till later. I don't want to scare you.'

"Is there a prophecy about me?"

Isia looked like he'd slapped her in the face. 'Yes. Well, sort of. The Princess, we work for the Princess and the Empress at times, well, she told me recently that a young man became an Oracle. That he'd seen something to do with you. She wasn't sure what, but he didn't tell her before he left.'

"How long ago was this?"

She shrugged. 'We don't count years the way you do. It could have been three or ten. I'm not sure which though.'

Eian frowned. "Well, until then we're going to need a way to buy food and shelter. I can paint our way to a living."

Isia watched as the young man walked out of the forest. He was going to be a most powerful magic user someday.

 

Chapter 16: The Plague

The plague hit hard. Harder than anyone had ever thought it could have. First, it started off slowly, only taking one or two people at a time. Then it was three or four. It slowly escalated to seven a week. The symptoms that appeared at first were high fevers and chills. Then rashes began to break out. Soon the whole body would be covered in a rash. To the ill it would feel like they were burning up inside. Their throats would swell and they would be unable to swallow anything. As they were unable to swallow or eat anything they began to waste away. As they began to waste away their bodies began to deteriorate. Because of that their immune systems couldn’t heal themselves. It was a cycle that they were unable to break, nothing could have helped them. In the beginning it was isolated; only small towns. As doctors came to try and help they brought it back to bigger towns and then the cities began to collapse. As people died and became sick food production stopped, and as food production stopped more people became sick and died. The whole world began to fall apart. As the world began to fall apart the people themselves began to fall apart. The land and the people suffered together, becoming one and the same.

Eian stood in the capital city over his dying grandmother. Blose held his hand tightly and looked up at him with sadness in her eyes.

“Eian…” she whispered. “Don’t look so sad. I always knew I was going to die, and there’s no helping it at this point. I’d hate for you to get sick too.”

Eian looked down. “I can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Die. I can’t die – my magic prevents it.”

Blose smiled. “I won’t ask how that’s possible, I know that I won’t understand it.”

Eian clasped her hand tighter. “I’ll stay with you. I won’t sleep until you’re better.”

“Until I’m dead. I’m not getting better, darling.”

“I’ll still believe you are.”

She patted his hand gently and smiled up at him.

There was a bit of commotion at the next bed over as a body convulsed. Eian looked over and there was a young man there, older than him, but not old. He looked ravaged with pain and sadness and his hands were clamped on the sheet. The person, or soon to be body, lying in the bed was that of an older man. His body convulsed again and he opened his mouth and let out a little moan as he tried to speak.

“Don’t talk Father,” the young man’s voice was low and worried.

“Zese...”

Eian looked down at his grandmother. Her hand was slackening in his and Eian bent down.

“Grandmother! Grandmother! Please look at me!”

She looked up warmly at him, “Eian…please…don’t give…me…that…look,” her voice trailed off as she convulsed.

“Don’t talk, conserve your breath.”

Blose’s hand slowly slipped from his. “Grandma,” he whispered forlornly as he bent over and kissed her cheek. He squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.

As he turned away he caught the eye of one of the doctors. He was a middle aged man who had the start of wrinkles around his eyes but his hands were still dexterous like those of a painters.

The man approached him and asked, “Has your family member passed?”

“Yes, she’s in bed number one hundred and eighty two. Her name is – was – Blose.”

He licked his lips. “Uhm. Well then. I should…” he looked over at the other bed as the older man convulsed again. The middle aged man followed his gaze.

“They’re nobles, but at this point, nothing matters anymore. Rank, status, power, money, none of it. Everybody is dying.”

Eian let his eyes drop. “I think I might be able to relieve that man’s pain some.”

The man nodded. “Go to him then, and work your magic.”

Eian smiled at the phrasing and as he turned to go the man spoke again, “I’m Ohiel.”

“Eian.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“And you.” The man nodded and turned away as he headed to another patient in need.

Eian approached the bed of the noble and touched the young man’s shoulder.

“Excuse me. I think that I might be able to help.”

The young man looked up and narrowed his eyes at him. “Really? You think you can help a dying man? Save his life when you so obviously couldn’t save your grandmother’s own life?”

“That’s different, she asked me not to. She said it was her time to go and to let her die.”

“And I don’t want your help, whatever you’re offering. Plenty of people offered me solutions to this illness but none worked. I refuse to pay for something that won’t work.”

“I’m not asking you to pay, just watch.”

The young man narrowed his eyes but stepped back and nodded.

‘Isia…tell me how to do this.’

‘Eian…this is much more powerful magic than anything you’ve ever done and it’s on another person. You could fail…’

‘I don’t particularly care about that right at this moment. Just tell me what to do!’

He head Isia sigh in his mind but her acknowledgement. ‘Okay. You need to draw this sigil,’ she flashed the image in his mind ‘on his torso. Do that and then I’ll talk you through the rest of the process. It may take a while, so don’t rush. This is not something you can fix if you make a mistake.’

‘Got it.’

Carefully he pulled his pen out of his bag and began to sketch the sigil onto the man’s torso. His son reached out an arm and snarled,

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Saving your father, now step back otherwise I don’t think I will be able to heal him in time.”

The man reluctantly stepped back and Eian got to work again. Once the sigil was finished he quickly wiped his hands on his pants and spoke to Isia yet again.

‘Now what?’

‘You need to start the healing chant I taught you. Do you remember? If not I can repeat it before you.’

‘I think I remember it, but repeat it anyways.’

‘Remember, once you begin you can’t stop. Make the choice now.’

‘I’m going to save him.’

‘Good.’ Exactly like I thought, Isia thought to herself, he’s becoming stronger, forging out on his own. With the death of his grandmother he doesn’t really have anything else to live for. His two school friends are also already dead or so they said.

She could hear him muttering the chant under his breath as he moved his hands above the man’s torso.

‘Okay, now let one palm rest over his heart,’ she told him.

Eian placed one hand over the man’s heart and continued to chant as he waited for the next instruction.

‘Slowly move it in circles.’ Was the next command.

Eian followed her orders and began to move his one hand in circles.

The man broke in, “What exactly are you doing? What is this? Are you hurting him?”

Eian didn’t deign to answer the man’s pleas but just kept working.

‘Now, this is working with all four normal elements plus light and dark. Essentially the darkness has taken over this man’s body and isn’t letting go. You need to exorcise the dark and replace it with light. Healing light. It’s a complicated process that you learned how to do on yourself but on another person it is ten times more complicated.’

‘Okay, so what do I do?’

‘Start by calling on the first element, earth. Mind you, these all must be healing elements so be careful when you call on them and make sure you call the right one.’

Eian slowly reached out with his mind and called to the healing earth which responded with such a quickness it nearly surprised Eian.

‘The next element is air. Healing air, call on that next.’

Eian called out to air which also responded unusually easily. He took a breath as he steadied himself and held onto the two already called elements.

‘Now water. This is a little bit of a harder one. Water doesn’t like to work with the other elements.’

Eian coaxed water to him after a few minutes of bartering with it. Finally he only had fire left of the four main elements.

‘Fire is the trickiest of the four core elements. Fire likes to burn and destroy all the other elements. You have to be careful when you use it because if it scares them all of…’

‘I can’t complete the cure.’

‘Right.’

Eian managed to contain fire before he heard Isia’s voice in his mind.

‘The final element is the healing light. The healing light will over power every other element – it will join them all together which is what you want.’

Swallowing Eian nodded and stopped chanting as he drowned the other elements in healing light. He began to feel them bond and form a solid connection. And then, the light dashed through the noble man’s chest.

Eian could feel it eviscerating the darkness, destroying it on all fronts until finally it was all gone.

Eian sighed and leaned back.

Zese caught the young man as he fainted but nearly dropped him once he had touched the young man’s skin.

He was…he was…it was him!

Chapter 17: Realizations

Zese stared down at the young man’s face frantically. He brushed the young man’s hair to the side to get a much better look at his face. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he lifted him into his arms. He turned to the middle aged man who had been attending his father.

“Is there a place where he can rest?”

The middle aged man tapped his lip thoughtfully. “There’s an inn around the corner from here. I own part of it so there’s always a few rooms reserved in case I have guests. You can borrow one of those rooms for the meantime.”

“Thank you,” Zese smiled at him gratefully.

“Ah, you need to tell the manager Ohiel sent you.” The middle aged man patted Zese’s arm. “You shouldn’t worry about him anyways. He’ll wake up soon enough. The magic just exhausted him.”

Magic? Zese thought to himself. What did that mean? He didn’t know of anyone still alive who was able to use magic. Was this boy able to use it? Was he a true User? He looked down at the sleeping face and felt his heart stutter for a moment. He thinned his lips and hefted the boy higher into his arms before taking off to the inn.

He knocked on the door with his foot as he couldn’t open it due to his hands being full of the young man. The door opened to reveal a handsome older woman. She waved them in.

“Hello, I’m Iasui. How can I help you?”

“I – we – need a room for the night and Ohiel said we could borrow one of his.”

“Ah-ha. Well then, would you like some dinner as long as you’re here?”

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble ma’am. Perhaps we could take it up in our room as, ah, he’s still asleep.”

“That’s fine, dear. I’ll show you the way now then. Let me get the keys first.”

She went behind the counter and dug around in a rather large box, picking up several keys at a time and sorting through them quickly.

She made a triumphant sound and held up a key. “Here it is, one of the better rooms.”

She motioned to them and said, “Come this way now.”

Zese followed her carrying Eian.

“What’s his name?”

“I actually don’t know.”

“Did you just pick him up off the street or something?” she asked.

“No, he saved my father so I suppose I owe him a debt.”

“A debt, hmm? Well, what happened to him in any case?”

Zese licked his lips a bit nervously. “He passed out after healing my father. I’m not quite sure what he did but Ohiel said he used magic.”

“Magic?” The woman’s eyebrows rose at this point.

“Magic, he said the boy did magic. But there haven’t been any true magic users in a long time.”

Iasui sighed. “That is true. True Users are hard to come by in this day and age. It’s a pity that more of them aren’t alive. Even if it is just one or two they could help immensely. And if he is a true magic user then it is all the more amazing. He looks far too young to do what you were talking about.”

“You understand the concepts of magic?”

“Yes. They’re very easy to grasp and anyone can learn them but not everyone can wield the power of magic. But that’s enough for now. You look like you could use some rest as well.”

She’d stopped at a door and unlocked it with a key. “If it wasn’t obvious this is your room for your stay here. If you need anything just ring that bell over there.”

“We have a bell?”

“Yes, since these are private rooms for personal use they have a bell in them.” She smiled. “Please get comfortable and if you need more blankets just ring for the bell and we’ll come.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Zese replied giving her a little bow and trying not to drop the young man on the floor.

He entered the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He lay the unknown young man on the (sole!) bed in the room before sitting on the opposite side and tugging off his boots and belt. He quickly opened the closet and fetched the two extra blankets normally stored and placed them on the bed. After a moment’s thought he tucked the young man beneath the covers that had already been on the bed but slept atop the quilt himself under the blankets he’d pulled out of the closet.

He woke a little while later to a soft knock at the door. Before he could get it he heard a stirring besides him in the bed and a soft groan before there were feet padding across the floor and a door opening.

“Oh! You’re up. I brought dinner. Is the other young man up?”

“No, it seems he’s still asleep. May I ask how I got here?”

“Well, all I know is that he appeared at my door carrying you.”

“Carrying me?!”

The woman seemed amused by this. “Yes, carrying you. He said you’d saved his father so he was repaying a debt. Apparently my brother Ohiel sent him here.”

“Oh. That was nice of him.”

“Mmm, it was. May I ask your name little one?”

“Little one?”

“You are still young yet, but I do suppose it is rather rude to call you that, so unless you give me your name I shall simply keep calling you ‘little one’.”

“It’s Eian.”

“Eian. What a lovely name! What do you do for a living?”

“Well, I paint.” From where he was lying Zese could see him smiling a little wistfully. “Although with all this going on I haven’t had much time for painting at the moment.”

“A painter! How marvelous! My brother is a painter as well! He was trained by the master painter Diar.”

“DIAR?” Zese nearly shouted as he sat up. As he was sitting up Ohiel shoved his way into the room, he looked briefly at Zese before turning to Eian.

“Eian – did your grandmother work on a ship? Was she lost for about seven years?”

“Yes. How did you know that? That’s something she hasn’t told anyone!”

Ohiel closed her eyes. “She used to watch over me on the ship we were both on. We were sailing for…and then…”

“I know the story. She often talked about a young man that she’d met.”

Ohiel swallowed. “I loved her. She was so good to me. Especially once she learned my mother had died.”

Eian smiled a little. “She was good to me like that too. Both my parents died when I was young.”

“I’m sorry,” Ohiel told him.

Zese had made his way to the group. “You were trained by Diar?”

“Yes…” he said a little inquisitively.

“What was he like? What did he look like? What did he teach you?”

“Why so curious?”

“Diar was my grandfather.”

It seemed as if the world were spinning about them for a moment before finally coming to a standstill.

“I might as well admit,” Zese began, “I’m also a painter like you too but I’m also an Oracle.”

Ohiel’s eyes went wide. “An Oracle and a Magic User in one place! I’m certain that this can be no coincidence. We were brought here together for a reason.”

Ohiel reached out and gripped their hands. “We must discover the reason, something big is probably happening.”

Eian shrugged and moved back. “I know I probably should care, I just can’t quite at this moment.”

Isia was suddenly there in her half-corporeal form, the form only he could see. He half turned to her as she spoke.

‘It is simply depression, Eian. It will pass eventually. This is what happens when you heal someone of darkness. Some of it passes onto you.’

‘I don’t like it, it makes everything seem depressing. I just want to sleep all of a sudden.’

‘That’s normal. You used up so much energy that your body is unable to regenerate as quickly as usual.’

“Who is she?” Zese suddenly asked. “And what do you mean regenerate?”

“What are you talking about?” Ohiel asked.

Zese’s eyebrow twitched, “Her, the young lady in the corner who seems to have a love of the color silver. Even her skin is almost a translucent color.”

Eian turned to him. “You can see her?!”

“Of course!”

“You shouldn’t be able to! She’s a Source, only another Source or User should be able to see her!”

Isia had floated over to Zese and was studying him.

‘Hmm. How very interesting. He can see me. I heard you are an Oracle. Of the Princess perhaps?’

“Yes. I am an Oracle of the Princess.”

‘Well, that might explain it. Being an Oracle is like having a different type of magic. So I suppose it makes sense you can see me. The Princess is linked to the Source…”

“That’s all well and good,” Ohiel cut in, “but where do we go from here?”

Eian turned towards the window and watched as the wind blew snow across the hills. “I suppose we do our best to survive.” He turned back towards them. “Do you know what I mean?”

Zese looked him straight in the eye. “You mean to fight in the war everyone is predicting don’t you.”

Eian lowered his lashes and spoke softly,

/winter calls to me/

/ever so softly she wraps me/

/in her heavy arms/

/I lie in stillness/

/flesh the color of pale ice/

/lips the color of the winter sky/

/in this crystalline winter/

/we lay here in slumber/

/awaiting the coming of the dawn/

“The prophecy,” Ohiel whispered.

“The prophecy,” Zese murmured.

The three men turned to the window again as a blast of wind shook the shutters.

Chapter 18: Friendships

It felt like years to them but it was actually months. The three painters had bonded over their unique abilities. Ohiel had decided it was his mission to watch out for the other two. They always seemed to be getting into trouble – one thing after another. And as the plague was ending he found that they were almost always in more danger than was strictly necessary. He looked up as the door opened to the inn and he saw Eian limping being supported by Zese.

Ohiel sucked on his tongue hoping to hold back the rash statements he would make otherwise. Zese didn’t look apologetic in the least. He had a big grin on his face and with his free hand was pushing back his thick hair.

“Zese. Eian.” Ohiel greeted them a bit coldly as Zese settled Eian on a stool. “So,” he began, “how did you get into this scrape?”

Eian shook his head. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t Zese’s fault this time.”

Ohiel’s nose twitched. “You say that every time you both come back beat up.”

“It really wasn’t his fault this time. In fact he didn’t even start it!”

“Did you start it then?”

Eian’s shoulders slumped. “Maybe. Probably. Okay, yes. I definitely started it but the guy was asking for it!”

Zese was definitely rubbing off on Eian and very much in a bad way, Ohiel thought.

Eian had been so good when Ohiel had first met him. He had been very conscious of his actions and was always worried and hesitant about what was going to happen if he did one thing or another. Now though, he seemed far more wild and carefree.

He supposed that it was partly his fault too. He’d told Eian to get out there and learn about the world, to not sit back and let it pass him, to seize the day and make it his.

Eian was rolling his shoulders at the moment, apparently trying to loosen them up.

“Did you use magic?”

Eian looked up surprised. “Of course not! You’re not supposed to use magic to harm others!”

“Doesn’t mean people won’t try it, especially if they get stuck in a situation they can’t see the way out of.”

“He didn’t use it,” Zese snapped at him a bit angrily. “He didn’t even do anything wrong. He’s right, the other guy was asking for it. He got as good as he deserved.”

“So what did happen anyways that this guy deserved to be beaten into the ground? I’m assuming that’s what happened due to the way the two of you look.”

Zese’s grin got even wider. “Well we were out at the pub,” he started his story and Ohiel couldn’t help but put in,

“Of course you were, where else would you have been at this time of day?”

Zese frowned and shushed him before continuing rather dramatically with his story. “Eian and I were sitting at a table in the back of the pub so we could watch who came in and who came out. It’s also the best place to gain all sorts of interesting information.”

“Then what?”

“Then we ordered our drinks and had a bit to drink. Eian gets tipsy fast so I cut him off after the second drink of most nights. However tonight was supposed to be special, a celebration because as you know Eian just finished his massively big painting. He was halfway into his third mug when this man walks into the pub carrying a large stick.

“Now we thought that was slightly funny because seriously, who carries a stick into the pub anyways? So we laugh about it for a few minutes, take a few more swigs of the ale and sit and just enjoy the atmosphere of the pub.

“Not too long after the man walks in several more walk in and sit at his table. Now they’re not carrying any sticks or anything. But they’re a scruffy lot, they look like they’re always up to no good. So much so that they don’t have anywhere to live because they keep getting dumped on the street.”

“Much like you two will be if you don’t stop coming back looking like this?” Ohiel asked dryly.

Zese gave him an irritated look. “Thanks,” he replied as Eian urged Zese to go on with the story.

“Now where was I? Oh, right. We were at the part where several scruffy looking guys walked in. Eian and I watched them for a bit. We were wary and starting to sober up fast as they looked to be a mean lot that might just cause trouble. At this point our food arrived at the table and we dug in still keeping a careful eye on the men in the corner while we held a light conversation about nothing in particular. It’s a good thing we started sobering up sooner rather than later because the trouble was about to start.”

“Oh bother,” Ohiel muttered as Zese stood up and began pacing the floor.

“Here we are minding our own business, just so you know. A young woman walks out, a pretty little thing. She’s nice to look at, really nice, she seemed to be a sweet girl too. A little unsure of herself, but someone I think I might like to get to know more intimately – ooof,” he huffed as Eian jabbed and elbow into his side and glared at him. “No offense Eian.” Eian narrowed his eyes further and leaned back in his seat saying,

“Oh, do continue, I can’t wait to hear what you say next.”

Zese raised his hands as if in surrender. “So the pretty thing comes out, her name is apparently Seira because that’s what one of the other girls called her as they passed each other by. So this Seira approaches the scruffy looking men’s table and greets them warmly and cheerfully inquiring as to what she can get them for the night.

They’re rude fellas so they order one thing then when she repeats it back they say that she got it wrong and change it on her. This lasts for a few minutes before she just up and leaves to the kitchen with the last things they’d ordered on her list. Now these men are now scowling. They’re probably used to the type of girls who’ll play along until they get to the point of tears. This girl was a new breed to them. They lightened up considerably after their beer came. I thought perhaps this was going to be over now. Unluckily it wasn’t. They stayed quiet all through dinner and then all through the next ten minutes of their conversation.”

Eian nodded here. “This is the interesting part.”

Ohiel raised his eyebrows in curiosity.

“Eian and I were standing up to leave, we’d paid our tab and had gathered ourselves and our coats up when the real big trouble started. Seira had come out again from behind the bar and had made way to the table full of men and was asking them if she could get them anything for dessert. One of the crude ones said, ‘You, sweet cheeks.’ As you may understand she was infuriated by his comment and stepped back saying coldly, ‘Sir. I work here. Please treat me with the respect I deserve.’ One of the other men got up the nerve to say, ‘You shouldn’t be working here girl, then. You should be working next door!’ and the men laughed.”

“What’s next door?” Ohiel interrupted.

“You don’t know?” Eian asked. “I thought you knew were everything was?”

“I don’t know the section of town you’re talking about very well, however. So if you’d please enlighten me it’d be much appreciated.”

“Oh. In that case it’s uhm. A.” Eian stumbled over his words. Ohiel could tell he was a bit embarrassed. “It’s a cathouse…a brothel.”

“A brothel? They told her she should work in a brothel? Why?”

Eian sighed, “You’re not that old you should be able to figure it out fairly easily.”

Ohiel seemed to think about it for a few minutes before coming to a conclusion. “Aaahh, because she was so pretty. That was why they said that. They thought she should work in a brothel due to the way she looked? And due to the way she acted?”

“She acted perfectly normally,” Eian filled him in. “There was nothing wrong with her attitude. I myself thought she had a lovely attitude.”

This time it was Eian who earned the glare from Zese who picked up the story yet again.

“This girl Seira, now she was in a fit. She was blazing mad and was pointing her finger and shouting at them. The men were shouting back at this point and one got so mad he reached out and gave her a good whack on the face. She was so shocked she staggered back with a hand against her cheek. It didn’t stop her for long because she went after the men just as easily as you or, well, Eian or I would go after another man who had offended us. She didn’t stand a chance. She was getting whacked about every which way. At this point Eian here must have seen enough because he marched right over to the lead guy and punched him in the face. He went down like a log. All of a sudden they were all on Eian and he was doing a fairly decent job –”

“Fairly decent?” Eian interrupted sounding a bit peeved.

“A very good job,” Zese corrected, “of keeping them off his back. There were six of them and only one of him though, so you can imagine how one sided the fight actually was though.”

“I can’t even imagine,” Ohiel remarked wryly yet again.

Zese continued as if Ohiel had never said a thing. “So I finally go over and join him and it evens up just a bit. I’m stronger than most men so I knocked two out. That left four and Eian took out another. There were only three left standing and there were two of us. Seira however took care of that by kicking one of the three pretty hard in the crotch. The guy was so busy worrying about his junk that he forgot about us two. We proceeded to kick the, uh, well, let’s just say we did win the fight in the end.”

Ohiel sized up his two young friends and sighed. “Well, at least it was for a good cause,” he told them. “Come on, sit down and I’ll tend to your wounds. Just don’t expect me to be nice about it.”

“I wouldn’t even ask,” Zese said grinning.

Eian just rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair as he waited for his turn.

Chapter 19: Letters

It was a huge relief to hear that the plague was officially over.

Eian rolled over in the bed and stared out the wide window watching the first buds of spring. The harsh winter had decimated much of many flower’s chances of blooming in the spring. But this tree was a survivor Eian thought. It was blooming even though it had been so harshly hit. He smiled a bit and raised his hand towards the ceiling but in mid reach a larger, rougher hand caught his and twisted their fingers together. He felt a smile against the back of his neck at the low growl of irritation he’d made.

Zese pulled the arm with their twined fingers closer to Eian’s body.

“Good morning,” Zese murmured as he pressed another kiss to the back of Eian’s neck.

Eian mumbled “’mornin’” back.

After a few minutes Zese finally sighed and sat up. “Are we ever going to talk about this?”

Eian turned his head on the pillow. “Talk about what exactly, this or that?”

“Both, either, you pick.”

Eian shuffled the covers up his body pulling them almost all the way up to his chin.

“Are you really enlisting as a mercenary?”

Zese wrinkled his nose as he bathed his face in water from the wash dish.

“Yes. Although it’s risky, because who knows where I’ll be deployed to, who I’ll be fighting.”

“We’re not going to have a choice much longer are we?”

Zese glanced over at Eian who had finally sat up in bed and was staring at him with a kind of hopeless helplessness.

Zese frowned and turned away quickly. “Probably. Yes. They need as many men as physically possible.”

“I don’t really want to fight. I can use a bow but anything else is slightly beyond me.”

Zese smoothed Eian’s hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss upon it. “I wouldn’t worry. I don’t think you’d be on the frontlines if they conscript you.”

Eian didn’t like this war one bit. He disagreed with it on so many levels but there really wasn’t a lot of choice. The plague had done a lot of damage.

With all the people dying there had been no harvest this year, there had been no planting; there really hadn’t been much of anything. There was little to no food and people were becoming desperate, they were killing each other, cities were taking sides, becoming divided.

From afar Eian could see it: the city states were growing apart each becoming their own “country” and forming alliances with other city states that would be mutually beneficial until one of them was dry and therefore useless. That city state would be trampled and left for dead.

The other countries in the world weren’t faring much better. Although they had more resources than Aniatea they were still suffering immensely. These other countries were gathering all their power and getting ready to attack each other and the surrounding countries.

Eian knew it wouldn’t be long before his own country would be forced to retaliate or to make the first move to protect its citizens.

The young man swallowed and stood from the bed as Zese moved towards him once again. The older man took Eian’s face in his hands and tilted it up.

“Eian,” he whispered softly, “Dear Eian,” Zese’s eyes closed, “Darling, you’re starting to worry too much. We can only hope that these people figure out the issues before they become too big to handle.”

Eian’s hands closed over Zese’s whose still held his face. “I can already tell it’s becoming too late. I’m sure you’ve already talked to the Princess briefly, am I right?”

“Yes.” Zese leaned his forehead against Eian’s. “She said war was coming. A war that would divide but also unite. The way she speaks in riddles is often confusing and takes a while to decipher at times.”

Eian looked up through his lashes. “Did you see anyone dying?”

“I can only see blurry figures in that aspect. As the time closer to death comes the image will become clearer. The future can change though, so there are no guarantees that one person will survive and the other will die or vice versa. I cannot be relied upon. Has Isia said anything?”

Eian swallowed. “No. She’s barely spoken a word. I think she’s brooding. She may be worried just a bit.”

“Just a bit,” Zese sighed a bit unhappily. “She doesn’t want you using magic in this war does she? She’s afraid it’ll turn you evil and that both she and all your friends will lose you. That and we all may have to find a way to kill you if you grow too powerful.”

“I’m sure that I won’t use my magic for evil purposes though. I’ve seen the consequences of too much misuse of magic. I won’t risk it. I won’t risk my life like that.”

“Good, now let’s talk about this other thing.”

Eian moved to pull away but Zese caught him. “Eian, listen to me. We’re no longer just friends. We’re partners for lack of a better term.”

“Would lovers be more appropriate?” Eian asked sharply.

“Would it?” Zese inquired. “To be lovers both people have to have a connection and think of themselves as lovers. Are we at that stage yet?”

Eian couldn’t avoid Zese’s eyes who’s looked straight down into his as if they could see his soul.

Eian after a moments though stood on his tiptoes and kissed Zese gently. “I suppose I do,” he admitted a bit reluctantly.

At this Zese pulled him close and rested his head atop Eian’s and stroked his large hands down the young man’s back.

“I’m glad,” he whispered, “that you feel the same way about me as I do you.”

Eian wrapped his own arms around the man’s neck and held on. It felt as if he were lost in a storm on the sea. He could feel the waves rising and that he was barely clinging to the driftwood.

He swallowed back the tears and for a moment he felt so utterly weak, so much like the woman he’d once saved.

He raised his tear wet eyelashes to look into Zese’s face. What he saw was a picture of torment. One that he hated to see. He’d caused this – he caused this pain because he’d made Zese fall in love with him. He bit his lip and began to pull back but Zese wouldn’t let go.

“Not yet,” he said. “Please just let me hold you for a little bit longer. I don’t know when we might get this chance again.”

Ohiel watched silently through the crack in the door and he felt their pain. He looked down at the piece of paper in his hands and grimaced. He’d opened it and had felt a cold chill run through his blood. He did not want to see what this war would bring about, what this war would ruin.

He turned away from the door and made his way back down the stairs and into the kitchen. On the table sat two other pieces of paper identical to the one he had carried upstairs in his hand. He sat down at the table and pulled all three pieces of paper towards him. The fire crackled merrily behind the grate as if to mock him. He licked his lips and unsealed the one that said ‘Ohiel - Painter’ on the front.

Inside was a letter.

To whom it may concern Ohiel:

You have been picked from many candidates. You are the one we seek. We have heard that you survived a ship wreck and know how to fend for yourself in the wild. That set of survival skills will be very useful to us. We have sent out a letter of notification to the other city states stating your conscription into the Ibaian army. As a mercenary (due to the fact you are not a soldier) you will be paid less but a set amount for the time you are in service to us. All food and board fees will be paid by us wherever you are. Your first job is to report in by the end of the month at Ibaia. From there you will head to the frontlines and teach the men stationed there survival techniques.

We shall see you soon,

Falworn

The next letter he opened belong to Zese.

Zese:

We have commissioned you to fight for the Boisson estate. This means that for the duration of the war you shall fight for us without switching hands. This is due to the fact that you trained here and registered as a soldier beneath my name. I find it very lucky to have you on my side. Please remember to come as soon as humanly possible. We have a lot of work to do. Some of the new recruits could use some sprucing up. We don’t have a lot of time before the outbreak of this terrible war. Although I say report in soon I’ve been told to give you an exact date and place. Please report to me by the end of the month at the Boisson Estate. I’m going to assume you still know how to find your way back.

I’ll be seeing you soon,

Boisson.

The last letter Ohiel opened belonged to Eian.

To whom it may concern Eian:

You have been picked from many candidates. You are the one we seek. We have heard that you possess a very special talent; one we covet immensely: magic. Your old school mentioned that you were very powerful – exactly what we need in this war. We have sent out a letter of notification to the other city states stating your conscription into the Ibaian army. As a mercenary (due to the fact you are not a soldier) you will be paid less but a set amount for the time you are in service to us. All food and board fees will be paid by us wherever you are. Your first job is to report in by the end of the month at Ibaia. From there you will head to the frontlines and will do your best to use this magic of yours to benefit the cause. I’m sure you’ll do your best.

We shall see you soon,

Falworn

 

 

 

Chapter 20: To the Fight

Ohiel leaned on the table and placed his head in his hands. He knew he should feel lucky that at least he would be able to look after one of the two. Even in the little time that they’d known each other they’d become connected through the fact their family members had met each other long before they themselves had ever met. He heard footsteps on the stairs and turned as Eian came down them with a thump. He grinned and ruffled his hair as he picked up a loaf of bread and sliced through it.

“Did you and Zese work things out?” Eian lowered the bread from his mouth and stared hard at Ohiel.

“What exactly do you know?” he asked.

Ohiel shrugged. “Only what I see.” He motioned at Eian. “You two are not in love but you do care about each other. You’ve formed a bond with each other. A bond stronger than normal due to the similarity of your ‘gifts’.”

Eian snorted and bit into a bite of bread. “I’d say you were spying.” He finished chewing and went to pick up the papers Ohiel had left on the table. Ohiel caught his hand and pulled it away.

“What’re those?” he questioned.

“Nothing you need to see right now.”

Eian pulled his hand away from Ohiel’s grip and grabbed the one he saw with his name on it.

He opened it and felt his stomach bottom out.

A recruitment letter. A letter that said he would be sent to the frontlines. That he would have to use his magic for war. Something that he’d been trained never to do. He could feel Isia behind him murmuring something.

‘You can’t fight with magic. You know what the results would be!’

Eian sank down into his chair and rubbed his hands across his face. His letter had floated to the ground and lay face up, the writing bold and harsh.

Ohiel bent and picked it up. “Eian,” he began, “what are you going to do?”

Eian bit his lip and scrubbed his hands over his face yet again. “I don’t know,” he sighed. “I really don’t know.”

Zese tromped into the kitchen and glanced at Eian who looked as white as a sheet.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

Ohiel handed him a thin slip of paper. Zese took the sheet of paper with wariness. He held it at arm’s length as he flipped it over to look at the back. It was emblazoned with the official seal of Ibaia of Aniatea. He frowned and shook it open. He skimmed his eyes over it quickly and when he got to the bottom he dropped it on the table.

“You should go.”

Both Ohiel and Eian looked up in surprise.

“What?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” Zese told them with a scowl. “He has great power.”

“Power not to be used for war!” Ohiel snapped out.

“You should know that!” Eian snapped.

Zese rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking about using it for war, stupid. You did heal my father remember?”

“So?”

“I know you’re not as dumb as you’re acting. Just tell them your magic is unable to fight, that it will kill you if you use it to harm others. Tell them it can heal though.”

“Heal…” Ohiel muttered then his eyes got wide. “Oh! I see, very smart Zese.”

Eian had half stood up from the chair. “But remember when I healed your father? I lost nearly all my strength. If I were to truly heal people I’d need to be stronger. And I’m not.”

“It’ll take practice, a lot of practice but the more you use it the stronger it’ll make you.”

“If I don’t die from overuse!”

“I won’t let you then. I’ll go with you.”

“Unfortunately,” Ohiel interrupted, “You will not be going with him.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I’ll go with him!”

Ohiel shook his head and picked up one of the other two slips of paper on the table. “Here.”

Zese flipped it open without a word and began to read. Boisson. He thought. Of course. He’d do his best to keep me safe. He had promised my parents that.

His hands clenched around the piece of paper. “I can ask Boisson to conscript you into our army until we’re-”

“No – don’t bother. He’s with me.”

Zese looked up questioningly.

“He’s in the same company as I, or rather, we’re fighting for the same man.”

Zese slumped a bit and so did Eian.

“I’ll watch over you while you practice your healing. Apparently I will be teaching survival skills.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know why they think that I’d be the best at it, but they do. And we really don’t have a choice.”

“Do either of you really know what this is about?” Eian asked.

Ohiel turned towards the window and looked out. “There have been rumours. Many rumours.”

“Good…or bad?”

Ohiel shrugged again. “I guess it depends on your version of good or bad.”

“Have either of you ever heard the tale of Venicia?”

Zese went still. “That’s the cause of this? They blame each other?”

“No. Let me tell you the tale Eian because it seems you have never heard of it before.”

“No, I haven’t. I vaguely know it has something to do with the Princess and her reign on the world…or something.”

Taking a deep breath Ohiel began to set the story up…

A long time ago there was a beautiful human girl. There was a terrible fight over her and neither side won, she won for herself. The princess becomes angered by the attitudes of the Venicians. She thought them ignorant and lofty. Even if they had new inventions, wonderful architecture, it didn’t matter, the princess was furious. She made her decision. It is said that she wandered the city the night she was to put her plan into action. There she told her Priestess to go and take a message to the rest of the world. While wondering the city she bumps into a “considerate” young man. She takes pity on him and sends him away from the city, far away where he would not be destroyed. She then rises above the city and curses them, curses them and sinks them into the water. And so it is said Venicia disappears beneath the surface of the water.

“That is the story of Venicia, Eian. It is that these city-states are fighting for.”

“So why exactly do they want Venicia so badly?”

Zese was frowning and his eyes began to open up wildly and he felt the horror just slide through him as he realized exactly what was going to happen.

“It’s the magic…they think if they get control of the sunken city that they’ll have favour and strength and power. They’ll have tools that we’ve never even thought about. Not only that they’ll have magic! Venicia has magic that even you Eian, cannot even comprehend. It was so much more powerful than the magic that was extinguished here all those years ago.”

Eian swallowed. “They want that magic to conquer the world, don’t they?”

“Yes. Not only will they be defending themselves against the foreign countries they’ll also be able to defend themselves against the other city-states within the country too.”

Eian’s eyes closed, and he felt fear run through his body.

“That’s why they want me…”

“I’d suspect so,” Zese agreed.

“They want me to find it…there’s always been stories that those gifted with magic can find things hidden with magic, but was Venicia hidden or simply destroyed?”

“The story isn’t that clear,” Ohiel said. “It’s vague actually, there’s no real way to know unless…” he turned to Zese. “Maybe you can ask the Princess what the truth is.”

Zese frowned. “I don’t want to bother her. She may like me but she hates being disturbed more than anything in the world. I only dare ask her if we’re positive this is really important.”

“It’s really important.”

Eian nodded. “I’ll go outside and make the altar.”

“I’ll get the necessary ingredients.” Ohiel said.

Zese followed Eian out to the back of the inn where there was a small courtyard.

Eian sank to his knees and planted his palms firmly on the ground while sinking his fingers into the earth. He breathed in and out for a few minutes before he activated his magic. It was true bliss, he thought to himself. Isia had been right, magic was so much easier now that he’d become adept at it. He smiled as the magic sang through his body. When it finally ended his body tingled all over.

Better than sex, he thought to himself. So much better.

Zese who was watching had caught the look. The look that said Eian had been in pure, wonderful bliss. He tried not to feel too jealous of the magic. He kneeled at Eian’s side and asked him,

“Would you like to feel what it’s like when I contact the Princess? You should be able to since you have magic yourself.”

He loved the look on Eian’s face. It completely lit up all over and he felt proud that he’d been able to ask something of Eian who probably had never even thought of doing something like this before.

He took Eian’s hands in his and placed them on the altar. He searched the air looking for the Princess’s unique signature and called out to her, “Princess? Lysaes?” he called. “Are you there?”

There was no response. He called again. He still did not receive a response even as he called.

Eyes closed he prayed to her again and again. Next to him he felt Eian’s mind reach out into the air, and call out. “Princess?”

There was a bit of a stir in the air. Zese perked up with interest. Was the Princess responding to Eian for some reason?

“Zese?” he heard her voice. “Why are you calling me?”

He answered her, “Yes!”

“Zese?” she asked again. “I can’t hear you – you sound very far away!”

Zese instantly realized what was going on. He was conducting through Eian. “You have to answer for me,” he said.

Eian nodded and said, “Yes. I am here. My name is Eian, Zese called you through me.”

He felt her surprise as she drifted closer. “I have no real interest in talking to you. Why do you call? And why do you bring this boy with you?”

“It’s very important,” Zese told Eian what to say and Eian repeated it to the Princess. “Very important and we must have an answer sooner rather than later.”

“So you call on me for so trivial a matter? I do not think so, Zese.”

Suddenly there was a flash of light and Isia appeared. “Do not be so quick to leave Princess. It is more important than you think it is.”

“You dare to tell me what to do Isia from the Source? You do not command me, I command you!”

Isia firmed her lips. “Not in this petulant state you don’t.”

The Princess hissed and struck out at Isia but Isia dodged with a quickness that was unparalleled.

“Be careful, Princess. You don’t want to harm me a Source, for if you do you could very well harm, Eian here, a human. And you did take a vow not to harm any human life after that incident.”

“Please give us an answer,” Zese pleaded. “I would not call on you idly.”

The Princess settled down. “I suppose you wouldn’t.” She sighed. “Ask me then. What do you want to know?”

“We want to know about the city of Venicia. The truth about it.”

The Princess stared long and hard. “What specifically about it are you so keen on knowing?”

“We want to know whether you simply destroyed it or hid it with magic.”

“Destroyed or hidden? Why does that matter? It is gone now.”

“I’m sure you’ve seen all of us humans squabbling over the little resources we have left…I’m sure you can figure out what’s going on.”

“Truthfully I have not cared. Recently I have found my interests lie elsewhere, away from humankind.”

Eian sighed and spoke up now that the Princess seemed to be able to hear Zese quickly. “Just answer the question.”

“I destroyed it. Sank it to the bottom of the ocean.”

“So you didn’t hide it with magic?”

“No. Why?”

“Because people think Eian can find it with his magic.”

“Oh. Well. Good luck then.” She disappeared as quickly as she had come and both Eian and Zese found themselves kneeling at the altar.

“Well then.”

The looked at each other. “I guess we’re on our own.”

 

Chapter 21: Divergent Paths (Part I)

Ohiel watched as Zese lingered over Eian. It was the morning they were to leave – and hopefully they would all meet up sooner rather than later. Ohiel knew allegiances changed as quickly as they were made. He pushed Zese aside and moved up to Eian’s right side.

“Well, Zese. I suppose we’ll see each other soon.”

Zese nodded and stuck out his hand. “We’ll meet again soon.”

The younger man struck off down the road in the opposite direction and Eian felt a pang of sadness. He too though turned and headed down his road. He could hear Ohiel tromping behind him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the mountains rising high into the sky in the distance. They seemed to be draped in the elegant white cloth of snow, one that shimmered in the changing light.

“Did you know,” Ohiel’s voice floated out from behind him, “that you can use mountains to guide your journey? If you always head towards them you can find your way back to where you started.”

“Is that really true?”

“If you know what you’re looking for it is.”

“Tell me then,” Eian demanded.

“Do you see how there is more vegetation on one side than the other? The same side that the snow is thinner on?”

“I see it.”

“That means that side faces south. And the darker side, the one with more snow and less vegetation is the one that faces north. You can always tell what way you’re going by looking at that.” Ohiel stooped and picked up a rock with moss. “You can tell by looking at the moss on the rock.”

Eian plucked the rock from Ohiel’s hand and gazed at it with interest. “Are you sure?”

Ohiel smiled. “I’m sure.”

“Is that how you got off that island? By using things like this?”

Ohiel’s eyes darkened. “That’s not something I really like to talk about. It was a trying time.”

Eian bowed his head. “I’m sorry, I thought, since, you knew my grandmother and all...”

Ohiel looked at Eian sharply. “I knew her. I loved her. I’m mostly looking out for you in respect to her. She did me great favours when we were stranded together. Because she died I cannot repay her. Do not think I don’t care about you on your own – I do. I simply care more now because you are her grandson.”

Eian let his lip curl. “You’re old enough to be my father.”

“Yes, perhaps one day I will think of you as my son. But most likely not.”

Eian trudged through the sticky dust in his dark clothing and as he followed Ohiel flashed back to the day of his mother’s funeral. Today was so similar it was almost uncanny. His eyes trailed across the horizon searching for some sign, any sign, that what he was doing was on the right path. But there were no signs and all he was left with was the heat, his own thoughts and an uncertain young man whose future was also uncertain.

At least he’d be able to keep an eye on Blose’s grandson. He eyed the young man who was still tossing the moss covered rock up into the air and catching it again. He wasn’t smiling but he did seem more relaxed than he had before. Ohiel wondered what had changed in the few minutes of blessed quiet. He was hesitant to ask because he feared anything would set of the young man. Ohiel knew that even if Eian was in his early twenties he was still tender, still young. At the same time he was far more hardened than many other boys his age considering he had lost his parents at a young age and that he hadn’t had that much family guidance. He turned out fairly well, Ohiel thought to himself. But that was probably all Blose’s doing. She could turn a mean son of a bitch into a sweet, mewling little child. She had definitely done something right with Eian. Maybe even a bit too much because Eian was much softer than other men his age. He hesitated to kill, he was hesitant in everything he did. Again he thought, that might be due to Isia as well. Magic could change a person.

Then he realized. Isia must have talked to him. He closed his eyes and hoped that Isia hadn’t been able to read his mind. He feared that she had told Eian the story of the shipwreck. He knew that Sources could at times see into a person’s heart. Eian turned towards him and raised a questioning brow. He realized that he’d stopped walking as he had thought about Isia.

“What’s the holdup old man?” Eian shouted in amusement as he continued to walk backwards.

Ohiel walked more quickly to catch up with Eian. Eian turned on his heel and continued to walk forwards.

“Well then,” he said, “Tell me something interesting. It’s boring just walking.”

Ohiel’s eyebrow twitched. “I suppose I can tell you a bit about the shipwreck…if you really want to know.”

Eian shook his head and said, “I’m sorry. I never should have pried I know that certain things are too tender to touch.”

Ohiel felt relief in his heart. He really hadn’t wanted to tell the story but Eian had asked and he in the end had felt slightly obligated to tell the story to Eian.”

“But…can you tell me about my grandmother? What you knew of her in that time? If you can without revealing anything that you don’t want to of course.”

Ohiel thought for a moment as they walked kicking up the loose dirt on the road.

“Yes. I suppose I can tell you a bit about your grandmother…”

It was dark and the water was cold, very cold. His fingers and toes were nearly frozen and his whole torso trembled with cold. He sneezed into the water and beneath his numb fingers he could feel the slight texture of the earth, rather the sand, beneath his fingers. He tried to push up on his hands but found that they were too weak to support his weight. He collapsed back onto the sand with his face in the water. He couldn’t lift his head and he knew if he didn’t move soon he could easily drown where he lay. He could feel the tide coming in. Where it had been to his lower legs before it was now all the way up to his waist now. He gasped for breath as the water submerged his torso again. He grappled for anything, anything to pull himself from the water. He was freezing, so cold, so cold. Am I going to die? He wondered to himself. I still have so much to do in my life, he wanted to cry out. I can’t die yet! His clothes were torn to shreds and the rock and sand and debris from the ship was scraping his body as it was pulled in and out with the current. He was so cold his tears began to freeze on his face as he cried. Cold, cold, cold. The word repeated over and over and over inside of his mind. There was very little else for him to think about. Anytime he tried to think of doing something else he began to think of the fact that he couldn’t move in the least.

He caught his breath as the water rose over his face and settled there for a few seconds before retreating. He sucked in a breath desperately and wiggled in the same spot as he strived to crawl up the beach. As he wriggled a cold wind began to blow and whipped up the ocean and the waves, pulling them over him like a blanket, a very cold and wet blanket.

He spluttered as he accidentally inhaled some of the salty water. Now his face was freezing too. It felt as if he was becoming a block of ice. He decided to resign himself to his fate, there wasn’t any point in struggling anymore. He only hated the fact that he heard drowning was painful, that even as you struggled to hold your breath your head felt like it was going to explode and your body wanted to open your mouth and when you did you inhaled water and choked and breathed the water in and then soon, darkness. He finally closed his eyes. As he lay there on the beach praying he swore he could hear footsteps. Light footsteps, but footsteps nonetheless. He couldn’t find the energy to lift his head, much less open his eyes. So he lay there hoping that just maybe he’d be saved.

He felt a hand stroke through his damp hair and lift his head as another rush of ocean water filled the space where his head had lain. He heard a soothing voice talking as he was pulled to his feet. But he couldn’t stand on his own so he sank back to his knees in the sand. He now heard a mutter and the voice came again. A male voice this time, talking, talking, more talking. Then on his other side there was somebody. Somebody was helping him stand on both sides. His feet dragged in the sand as they pulled him along. Finally he was set on the ground on his back. He swore he heard a hiss and, “What -?”

“Debris. He was scratched by debris.”

“Debris – how the ship was…”

“It floated in with the current. He couldn’t move and so he had no choice but to lay still as it scratched him.”

Then the voices disappeared and all was quiet. A little while later he was able to open his eyes. He was staring at a strange structure. It looked like a house but it couldn’t be. He had been stranded on a beach after a shipwreck. He slowly blinked his eyes and went to raise his hand but ended up clonking himself on the head with his arm.

“Be careful,” the male voice said to him and he turned to face him.

“What,” he tried to speak, “What happened?”

The man who leaned over him was obviously one of the crewmen from the ship and he looked concerned as he leaned over. “Somehow the ship sank. I don’t really remember much about it. I woke on the beach and staggered over down the beach. I ran into a woman who was doing her best to help you. You are severely injured. You will not have much use of your limbs for a bit because you and they are weak. You nearly drowned by the way.”

“I remember…” he murmured. “Thank you.” He said turning his head towards the sailor who had moved out of his line of sight. He cringed as his neck twanged in pain. He licked his lips. “Do we have water?”

“Only a little,” the voice that spoke from the doorway was warm.

“Blose…” he murmured.

“Hello Ohiel.”

“You’re alive, I’m glad.”

She laughed, her voice soft. “I’m glad I’m alive too. I was able to save you because of that.”

The young sailor cleared his throat and said, “I’ll go see if I can’t find some more firewood. Maybe that way we’ll be able to survive a while longer.”

Before he left Blose told him, “See if you can’t find something to build a more permanent structure, heavy wood or some such. Like you said we won’t know how much longer we’ll be stranded out here.”

The sailor nodded and disappeared through the door.

He took a breath as Blose hovered over him. “Drink very slowly. If you drink too quickly you’ll make yourself sick.”

He agreed and let Blose help him sit up straight. He gulped some water before Blose took the water away.

“More.”

“No,” Blose told him gently. “We need to settle your stomach first. That means you need to eat something – we have a bit of meal from a bag that washed up on shore. I can cook that.”

And indeed she did. By the time the sailor came back it was ready. The three of them sat down to eat and afterwards Blose taught them how to bathe with just soap and a bit of water.

The beginning of their time on the island had just begun.

“And so,” Ohiel said finishing his story, “Your grandmother was a good and brave woman. I’m eternally indebted to her.”

Eian had slowed his walk. “Thank you,” he murmured to Ohiel, “thank you.”

Their path was long and hard but a few days later they arrived at the battle grounds. The battle was already raging when they arrived. Eian found himself thrown into healing much more quickly than he thought was possible. But he soon found Zese was right. As the weeks began to pass he found himself growing stronger and more capable than he had ever been before. He was healing men as fast as they were injured. He could see the other side was struggling and he felt a bit vindicated as he watched their suffering. He only wished Zese was here to see their triumphs.

 

 

 

Chapter 22: Divergent Paths (Part II)

Zese’s path was tangled. He frowned as he hacked away at the vines that had grown over the path to the main road. This is what he got for taking a side route. One he had only taken once years before. He had wanted to get to Boisson’s estate was quickly as possible but felt it was his duty to stop by his family grave first and pay his respects to his dead mother and sibling. He struggled through the vines and managed to get himself even more tangled in the vine. He sighed and stopped struggling. He had to think about how to get out of this mess. He let his body hang in the vines before his eyes popped open as they suddenly dropped him to the ground. He groaned as he rolled onto his back and looked up into the leaves that covered the sky. He pushed himself back to his feet and glanced around himself in curiosity. He wondered if there were a quicker way to get out of this mess…

He pulled his sword free and slashed at the vines. They parted easily beneath his weapon and he moved forward slowly. He finally reached the edge of the vines and stepped out into the cool air gasping. He looked around himself in surprise. The vines encompassed the whole mansion! It looked like magic had done this. He turned in a slow circle as he gazed at the mansion he had lived in as a young boy. He closed his eyes and imagined it as it had used to be. Where the vines weren’t devouring everything, where the grass although long was not wild, where the mansion house was not dilapidated and falling to the ground, where the oak doors were not rotting, where the stables actually existed. Where a fire had never occurred.

Slowly he opened his eyes and gazed at the mess that had once been his home. And although it looked nothing like it had then it was still home. It was to be his now that his family was dead and his father was incapacitated because of the plague. Eian had healed his body but his mind was gone. The plague had destroyed it.

Carefully he approached the old mansion house and pushed the door inward. It swung in and stood there for a moment before with a crack it fell off of its hinges and hit the floor with a solid thud. Zese tramped over the fallen door and into the dim interior of the main foyer. The walls were no longer pristine white or off-white. They were of a muddy color. The color of gray ash. He trailed one hand across the wall and his hand came away black. Grunting he rubbed his hand on his pants but the wall had still stained his hand a dull black. He moved on past the entryway and into the main hall. He looked around and peered in and out of rooms, his curiosity spiked.

He found his ways to the wide stairway that curled up towards the second floor. He dragged his hands along the railing as he stepped over the rotten portions of the steps. When he reached the top he turned to the right and looked into the first room. This room had belonged to his sister, and it was still the way she had left it when she had left to go to the medical center. It had hardly even been that, Zese realized. He’d been away at the time when the plague had started and for some reason it had completely skipped over him. The center wasn’t even really medical, it was just a place for people to go die in. His mouth curled downwards in a frown as he gazed round the room. His boot crashed through the floor and he swore softly. He made his way to the last room: the one that had once been his. Planting his hands on the far left wall of his room he pushed. All of a sudden the wall collapsed in on itself and revealed a large box which he pulled from the wall and set on the floor.

He hacked it open with his sword and inside was another sword. One that was beautiful – a mirror image of one that a Prince of the Royal family would carry. It had been in Zese’s family for as long as he could remember.

Picking it up Zese hefted it for a few minutes in his hand before leaving.

Weeks later he arrived at Boisson’s estate. But the estate was nothing like he’d ever known. It was pure chaos, and Zese almost didn’t know how to react. He managed to block a blow that would have split his head in two if he hadn’t raised his sword. He spun around on the heel of his foot and struck at his attacker. He cut him down with ease before turning and hacking his way through two more men. He found Boisson fifty feet away defending against three rather large men. He knocked one to the ground while Boisson finished off the second. The third they dealt with together. Boisson turned to him. “Glad you could join us, it’s been getting messy here.” He pointed across the field. “Apparently we’ve got some problems. We don’t have enough medics here. People are dying more quickly than we can conscript or heal them. Somehow the other guys are putting them back out onto the field like nothing else. They seem to be immortal.”

“Immortal?” Zese queried.

“Immortal. They keep coming it never stops. One of the men here, oh, here he comes, has some sort of magic.”

“He can do magic?”

“Not do it,” the man said as he approached, “I can feel it. Sense it when it’s used.”

“The person using it is extremely powerful and extremely talented.”

“Why do you day that?”

“His Source manifests so clearly. The more clearly a Source is seen the more powerful a User is.”

“Have you met him?”

“I wish, I wish I could learn from him, but my job is to see if I can kill him. To win this battle we must eliminate him.”

“How long have you been fighting?”

“Three days so far…three very long days.”

Zese rubbed his hands against his shoulders. “I’m sorry it took more than a month to get here. I went home first.” His lips twisted. “I’d like to think that it was a good choice.”

“You had to do what you had to do,” Boisson told him. Then they departed to fight their battles.

Sweat ran into his eyes as Zese fought his way out of an ambush. For the past six months it had been nonstop fighting, nonstop loss and pain and hatred.

Jiliy was right – the User who healed these men was exceedingly quick. And Zese knew it personally. He had felt such strong pain when he’d met his opponent. It had nearly knocked him breathless and apparently it had knocked Eian breathless too by the shocked look on his face.

Zese dodged the attack that was launched at him and he blocked the next one. Finally he managed to get a swipe in. The swipe chopped off the man’s head and Zese left him there as he turned to the next man in line. Line was not a correct word, mob would have been a better word. The battlefield was chaos – the mercenaries constantly switching the sides never remembering or knowing who to attack. They killed each other off more often than they killed the soldiers they had been commissioned to kill off. Many had vendettas against each other and they took this chance to try and off each other. The lords soon learned that this had been a great mistake. One that couldn’t seem to remedy. Now that they had gotten mercenaries involved they didn’t want to leave. They liked the adrenaline rush, the kill, the sweat, the blood, the pace. They loved war and chaos and death. There was nothing and nobody that could stop them. They had become a law unto themselves. All over the country the same phenomenon was happening. The Royal family who had been killed between war and plague was no longer around to stop the bloodshed. They also could not find relations to the crown so the throne was left empty. What was once a war for resources had quickly turned into a war for the throne. The thinking was still that whoever found Venicia would become the next King of Aniatea. Zese knew Boisson dreamed of that day. He wanted to be king and Zese also knew he was being used to make that dream come true.

That afternoon the fighting was wilder than usual so the medics were also out on the field attending to the wounded. It was there he nearly tripped over the young man healing a man who was bleeding due to a severe wound. He raised his sword to make the kill and realized his hands trembled. The young man looking up at him was as shocked as he was.

“Eian…” he’d whispered. “Eian…” and to his horror he felt himself putting down his sword.

Eian moved to stand saying, “Zese, what –”

He was cut off. “Stay here until I leave. Then go back to your side and stay there. I will have to kill you if you come back to the battlefield.”

Eian’s temper flared because he opened his mouth to speak but didn’t have the chance as Zese slid a sword through the belly of a soldier on his own side.

“Go,” he hissed. “I can’t do this again!”

He watched as Eian fled across the battlefield and he felt sadness overwhelm him yet again.

He stood on the top of the hill as he surveyed the current damage. He shook his head and moved to the next battle spot. In the distance he could see the fight still raged on. He wondered if this war would ever end.

Chapter 23: A War Torn Future

Perhaps the world had heard his prayer, Eian thought to himself as he looked up through the war torn field. On one of the rolling hills Zese stood fighting. Somewhere along the way he’d taken a slash to the back that had torn his shirt open and left a long wound across his back. His sword arm was hacking through the current unfortunate soldiers who happened to get in his way.

He licked his lips as he went back to tending to the injured in front of him. The same men that Zese was currently killing and injuring.

Across the way at the back of the battle there was a sudden cry. The earth was moving! And as it shook Eian barely had time to catch his balance as it split open. The battle had come to a complete stop and everybody was staring in shock, but as soon as the shock wore off they were back at each other’s throats.

That meant Eian didn’t have any time to laze about and watch the battle. He had soldiers to look after.

The man he was tending to suddenly gasped as if he were having trouble breathing. And he instantly saw why. There was a large gash in his throat that was seeping blood and he felt true horror for the first time. This man was still alive but in so much pain. He felt for the magic inside of him but it wasn’t there. He was drained and besides he didn’t think that he could heal this man. He didn’t know enough about healing throat wounds to even attempt it. Eian didn’t want him to die though. It was a conundrum. He leaned over and attempted to use his magic but found that the little reserves he had thought he had were in fact all gone.

He tried to breathe through the pain that tightened his body from his attempt to use his magic.

Suddenly Isia was there besides him. He tried to open his eyes but he couldn’t. “Can you give me the power to save this one last man?”

Isia looked down at him. “You’ve never used your magic for harm, but only for the good of others.” She stopped speaking as she waited for Eian to respond.

“And?” he croaked a little shocked that she could now speak in a mostly solid form.

“I will grant you this wish.”

She leaned down and placed her hands upon his head. Carefully she fed her own magic through Eian who fed it into the dying man. He watched as the man’s throat finished healing and he felt relief at having saved one more man.

And it happened so suddenly neither Eian nor Isia had seen it coming. The dying man had opened his eyes, dark blue eyes that seemed to gaze into the soul and smiled.

He spoke softly, “Thank you…thank you for saving my life.”

“It’s my job,” Eian replied.

The formerly dying man smiled and closed his eyes. He sighed and turned his head to the side just as Isia gave a small startled gasp.

“Isia? Isia? What’s wrong Isia?”

She made a small pained sound and Eian turned. His eyes grew wide as he looked around at his Source. He could see the sharp end of a sword blade peeking out from her breast, dying her white cloth a vibrant crimson. The only thing that could kill a Source, a sword.

“ISIA!” he cried out in shock as he reached up to catch her falling body. But at that moment something unexpected happened.

His body convulsed and pain tore through him. It felt like a knife in his breastbone. Knife in his breastbone? Then he realized. A Source and a User after a certain amount of time became connected, so connected that at times at the Source’s death the User would die as well. The pain sliced through him again and he couldn’t help but scream in pain. It kept coming and coming and coming. He tried curling up into a little ball but nothing helped. It was an onslaught. He could hear Isia’s voice softly calling to him. “Eian, Eian, stop, stop screaming,” she pleaded but he couldn’t hear her over the din of the pain.

Zese who had been at the top of the hill had seen everything. Horror stroked up his spine as he ran down the hill, skidding around soldiers and mercenaries alike. His breath came fast and hard as fear ran through his veins.

Not too far away he could see Ohiel running towards Eian as well. Five months ago Ohiel had been conscripted into another army apart from Eian and Zese. He was still fighting the same battlefield but it had become a three way battle instead of a two way.

When he reached Eian’s side he could see no wound on him. “Eian? Eian?” he called.

Ohiel reached them a few minutes later. “How is he?” he asked.

“I can’t find a wound on him anywhere.”

Ohiel looked around and saw Isia lying on the ground a gaping wound in her breastbone.

“Oh god,” he gasped and moved Isia into his arms. “Zese, Zese, we can’t save him until we help Isia. They are so connected that if she dies he will die.”

Zese turned to him. “What do we do then?”

“We save her.”

“Impossible…” Isia gasped out.

Eian was still squirming in pain and tears streaked his cheeks.

“Save her!” he murmured.

Isia gripped Ohiel’s hand. “I’ve been wounded by a sword…a sword of silver. I won’t live. There is no way. Bring me to him and I can save him.”

Ohiel carried her over to where Eian was moaning in Zese’s arms.

She reached out with bloody palms and traced a sigil onto his forehead. Leaning forward she pressed a kiss atop the sigil then when she rose it was glowing. A white light emanated from around her and then sank into the sigil which flared once before dying out.

Isia went limp in Ohiel’s arms. Eian shot up from Zese’s arms and leaned over Isia, shaking her. “Isia, Isia, Isia! Please, please!” Tears beaded in his eyes again, blinded him as he wept over Isia’s death.

Zese gasped this time and Eian whirled around in fear, “What? Zese, what’s wrong?”

Ohiel gasped to and raised a hand to his mouth. “Eian…”

“What?”

Zese came forward and slanted his sword so Eian could see his reflection.

His once dark hair was now pure white that seemed to have a hue of blue to it. His eyes too had a blue tone. He sank back onto his heels in shock. “What-?”

“You’ve become…” Ohiel began.

“…part Source.” Zese ended.

Eian raised a hand to his hair and tugged on it gently. It felt the same and looked the same besides the small fact that it was white.

The war raged on around him as he contemplated his future.

Chapter 24: Revisiting the Past

Eian experimented a little with his new magic. It had less limitations now that he was half Source. He danced an ice blue flame across his palm and Zese who was leaning against a post watched silently with a little apprehension.

Eian looked over at him. “Something wrong?”

He shrugged. “It’s a little strange to see you like this. You look…like something not from this world.”

Eian’s mouth twitched up a bit. “It does seem to strike some fear into the hearts of the men who see me on the battlefield.”

Eian over the past few weeks had learned that he could manipulate the earth and the weather to cause problems for his enemies and therefore keep them off balance while the army attacked. The earth that had split a while back was still of some concern and Eian had a feeling he knew what had done it. His eyes twinkled as he raised his hand and the earth bucked gently beneath Zese’s feet.

Zese rolled his eyes and stepped forward walking as the earth moved beneath his feet.

When he reached Eian he touched the young man’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go now. Be careful and I’ll see you soon.” He was gone in a cloud of fog that rolled in.

“Stop being dramatic,” Zese called back as the fog dissipated.

Eian watched him go with a bit of apprehension due to the fact that even though Eian was more powerful he was also more vulnerable.

He twirled the flame around his hand before letting it go out. He walked back into the tent whereupon he sank onto his knees and drew an altar from the ground. He prayed to other Source’s asking for guidance, but there was none to be had. The other Source’s refused to help him. The first time he’d talked to them after Isia’s death he found that they blamed him for it. He’d apologized – tried to talk to them and say he had loved her.

They had not believed him. They had wanted to strip him of the power Isia had granted him but because her dying wish could not be revoked (her dying wish had been for him to live) they had had to let him keep his powers.

He stood from the altar and gazed out at the serene night hoping that Ohiel was doing well after the whole Isia incident.

In fact Ohiel was more worried about Eian than he was about what his own fate was.

He watched as the stars circled the sky and marveled at the universe. As he stared at the stars something occurred to him. He moved out towards the huge crack in the earth and looked up again. The stars aligned above the earth’s crack.

He swallowed heavily and looked towards the east – the way the crack had originated from. Then he turned and faced the west – the way towards the sea.

He stepped a few feet in that direction and nearly jumped with shock when Zese came up behind him. “What are you up to?”

“Look at the crack in the earth, and then look at the sky.” He pointed up.

Zese looked up and he frowned not seeing anything.

“You really should be more careful with who you associate with Zese.”

Jiliy grinned as he melted out of the shadows. “I lied a bit. I don’t just detect magic, I can perform it as well.”

A sibilant green-yellow flame peaked in his hand. His hair was pitch dark, as dark as the night sky and his eyes as green as the flame he was wielding.

Zese took a step back. “I see what your friend is talking about. It leads the way to Venicia doesn’t it? Some god decided he wanted to toy with us, hmm?”

Ohiel didn’t deign to reply to Jiliy’s taunt. Instead he turned to Zese. “Go back to bed, this isn’t going to go anywhere. If it is a god then the type of trick they’d play would be to make us go on a wild goose hunt.”

Zese nodded and took off towards Eian’s camp.

Ohiel faced Jiliy. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

The User smiled. “Oh yes, the last time, hmm, was on the island when you thought I’d died right?”

Jiliy? Where was Jiliy? Ohiel thought to himself as he raced about the island. Blose found him sitting on a rock with his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe I lost him!” Ohiel shouted with frustration.

Blose shook her head. “It’s not your fault. We didn’t realize that the natives had come back to this part. We’ll find him.”

“If they don’t find us first,” Ohiel muttered.

Blose picked up his hand. “They won’t. It’s said in those stories over there that they only harm those who mean to harm them. Or something like that.”

“We’ve managed to survive here for four years without upsetting the natives. How come they attacked again all of a sudden?”

Blose raised her shoulders helplessly. “We barely speak their language. I’m not sure.”

Ohiel again scrubbed his hands over his face. “Well. We’ll go look for him again. Maybe he’ll be found somewhere.”

Blose looked down, a sad look on her face.

“I know you doubt us finding him, but we have to try! He saved me!”

Blose licked her lips. “I’m sorry…I just don’t, I’d rather keep you safe.” And that was all she said on the matter.

Although he looked for months he never did find any sign of his missing friend.

“You see,” Jiliy said, “The natives saw me tearing some of their, what do you call it, voodoo hoodoo? Whatever it was down. They tried to kill me but when I killed two of them they came to respect me. I asked them about their magic and they were more than willing to welcome me into their group.”

He snorted. “They trained me for three years. Then when I saw you had finally managed to wave down a ship I went back to the natives and asked them to grant me the rest of my power. They agreed when they heard that more men like you were coming. After a long, trying ceremony I got my power.” Jiliy grinned. “Then that night while they slept I murdered the whole village. Some I stabbed to death and others I locked inside the buildings and burned them alive.”

Ohiel’s eyes had widened in horror.

“It’s one reason I came out here. War is interesting. I was planning on slaughtering the entire army…but then I saw him.”

Ohiel almost hated to ask. “Who?”

Jiliy grinned again. “The beautiful young man Zese was hanging onto. The one who is now a Source. I will devour him for his power if he won’t convert to me.”

“I’d never convert to someone like you!” Eian’s voice rang out strong against the backdrop of the night. “I would never resort to something like murder.”

Jiliy turned towards him. “Well then, I guess we’ll have our own personal war.”

Chapter 25: First Glimpse

Aimeer was an inventor, a very good one at that. He was currently watching the two men face off against each other. He was more concerned with the fact that the stars were aligned with the crack. He knew from listening into the conversation that they thought they should head towards the sea.

He knew however that that was incorrect. Tides and shifting of the earth had changed the spot in which Venicia had sunk. They would not find it in the west of the east. He turned towards the north and grinned. The city would be that way. He set off at a swift pace, one he thought that would keep him ahead in case any of the other men decided to follow him.

He hurried along his footsteps banging on the dry dusty ground as he headed towards the snowy mountains. He leapt across a stone and tripped when he found that there had been a shorter stone behind the larger one.

He surged to his feet quickly and looked around to see if there was anybody that had seen his fall but the men were still arguing over…whatever they were arguing over.

His path took him around the large mountain and north, far north. He shivered through the first week he camped out in the wild. His bones and skin weren’t used to this cold but as the weeks he began to adjust.

His adjustment however wasn’t normal adjustment – what he thought he was adjusting to was just him getting frostbite and his toes and fingers going numb from the cold. He huddled against a large rock and prayed that he’d reach his destination sooner rather than later.

The next morning he found himself even colder and so he tried to move quickly to warm up his freezing body. He was getting close, he could feel it in his bones. And when he finally saw the city, the frozen city he found himself staring in awe. Utter awe. It was the most gorgeous city he had ever seen. Licking his lips he stepped forward towards the archway into the city.

He smiled and stepped through. As he stepped through the gate he found someone waiting for him.

“I was just a little bit quicker than you,” he said to Aimeer.

Aimeer cringed and backed into the wall. “I swear I only wanted to find it – I didn’t want to take anything from it!”

“Oh, I know that. I also know who you are. I saw you lurking when we were talking. I also knew that you would be able to find the city for me.”

Aimeer swallowed with fear. He moved forward and spoke again, “I just wanted to know the truth, if it really existed or not. I just needed to know the truth.”

“Now you know. How’d you know it was on land by the way?”

“Easy – the plate movements of the world. They shifted with magic. I knew the city had probably been raised from the water, I knew that there was a very small chance that it would be where it had originally sunk. Plus the cracking of the earth was due to magic being used once again. Here, in this city. Why do I know it was used here? Because it resonated through the earth and cracked it wide open. It cracked wide open opposite of where it was located because this is not the full Venicia. Venicia was split in two when it was beneath the ocean. All the earth rumblings destroyed it and caused it to split. Half, well, less than half is still underwater in the west. Just a residential district I’m assuming, but everything else? Right here in front of us. That is how I knew.”

“But how’d you guess north?”

“That’s the way the earth was shifting.”

The man’s mouth twisted downwards in anger. “You didn’t even use magic? How long has it been above the sea?”

“No magic. How would I know? I only knew where it would end up!”

Well, Jiliy smiled. “Then I suppose you’re no longer of any use to me now.”

“No…use?”

“None.” Jiliy’s eyes seemed to change color in the light. “You haven’t even asked me how I managed to get here so quickly. I’ll tell you though. Magic, dark magic, but magic nonetheless. It’s invigorating, almost like instantaneous movement, think of somewhere and you’ll be there. But not exactly. Ah, the feeling of power is one of the most wonderful things in the world.”

Aimeer and circled around so his back was now to the massive city. “But why kill me? I have no intention of telling anyone else where the city is. It’s not something that should be found. It’s far too dangerous for that!”

“Of course it is. It’s far too dangerous for you too. Back then skilled magic Users lived here. This city must be filled with magic and inventions and probably magic inventions too. That’s what makes this city so special I suppose. I want to rule this world and this city is about to help me do that.”

Aimeer saw Jiliy smile. “And so, your death is necessary. Who knows what you could do if you found those inventions. You’re one of the smartest inventors alive.” He paused. “On the other hand if these inventions don’t work I’d need somebody to get them working for me…but no. I need to kill you.”

Jiliy grinned as he waved his fingers and watched Aimeer sink to the ground clutching his chest. “Your death will come quick. Now, where to go next?”

“To the Afterlife is where you’ll be going when I get done with you,” Zese spoke from the city limits. “I know you can’t touch me over here with your magic. There’s a barrier up around the city and once I cross it you can use magic on me…but you leave and your magic gets less powerful again and since Eian is here you’ll probably lose again. So, I think this is a win-win situation for both of us. Perhaps the Princess can sink the city with you in it again. She does have the mind of a killer after all.”

Jiliy went pale as he saw the newly born source at Zese’s side. He realized he was in a lot more trouble than he thought he was.

Chapter 26: Venecia

Eian studied the man Jiliy from beyond the archway. They’d tangled briefly those few weeks ago but sudden fighting had broken out and it’d caused their fight to be interrupted. Jiliy had promised revenge on him. But now it looked like Jiliy was nervous. Before they’d left Ohiel had told them all he knew on the man. But it wasn’t much. Although they’d lived together for a while they had never become the best of friends. Eian paced in front of the gate as he thought. Before when they had fought Zese had been right, Eian had nearly beat him. But Eian had been out of commission for a while which is why it had taken them so long to arrive. Finally he made his decision and he walked through the gate before Zese could stop him. Jiliy grinned wickedly as he stared them down. “Perfect!” he chanted happily.

“You’ve decided to take up my challenge!”

“How could I ignore something as blatant as killing a man in front of us?” Eian responded coldly.

“Perfect, perfect!” Jiliy chanted again.

From his position beyond the gate Zese could see that the strange man Ohiel knew was a little unhinged, not in his right mind.

As he was about to call out he felt a hand on his shoulder and Ohiel shook his head.

“Don’t distract Eian. If you do it could be the end of him. Jiliy has become abnormally strong. When I lived on that island I saw some of the native’s powers. You do not want to mess with him if you don’t have to.”

“He looks strange, feature wise, more so than he did when we first met him.”

Ohiel nodded. “His hair was blond when I first met him.”

Zese’s eye’s popped wide and he stared in horror at Ohiel. “Are you serious?”

“The magic is so corrupting that it’s even changing his looks. Even if he wanted good magic he would never have gotten it. Magic is so corrupting when not used right and he never used it right. Perhaps it was a good thing that he ended up murdering all those natives on that island. That way they will never be able to pass on this dark magic to anyone else. But when you think about it you wonder who else got stranded there and got that power. Or maybe those people on the island were the people corrupted by that power. And then the reason magic here was abused could have been by those dark powers escaping the island and corrupting the magic here. Any of that is possible and we will never know the answer at this point.”

Their attention was caught as a building was destroyed by Jiliy who was chasing Eian across the tops of the buildings. “I feel like I should go help him,” Zese admitted.

“I know the feeling – but we can’t help him. He’s the only person strong enough to stand up to that man. Without him we would be unable to do anything.”

“I will pray for him then, and perhaps it will help.”

Ohiel smiled. “I will pray with you of course.”

The two men kneeled on the ground and watched the fight as it took place.

Eian had danced back from a blow that would have crushed him beneath the rather large bell tower and instead found himself with his back to a brick wall and unable to dodge the next attack. He grunted as the magical blow hit him and knocked him back by several hundred feet.

He staggered to his knees and gasped trying to regain his breath and think through his next move. He didn’t have much time however because Jiliy almost landed a blow atop his head. Luckily Eian blocked it with his arm and knocked him back before standing.

Carefully he leaned forward and traced a sigil in the dust and activated it with his hand as he tried to call on the magic from Venicia. Nothing happened.

Eian frowned and wiped out the sigil before redrawing the sigil all over again. And then he tried activating it. Nothing happened.

Jiliy cackled. “I guess you’re not really a magic User if you can’t even activate a simple sigil all on your own!”

Eian stood and he already knew what had happened and he waited for Jiliy to figure it out for himself.

Jiliy drew the sigil for death and tried to activate it. Eian raised his eyebrows as the man swore and banged his fists on the ground, cursing.

“So we can’t use death magic? I’ll just use destructive magic!” he hissed.

He drew another sigil in the sand and went to activate that as well. That one didn’t work either. Frantic he traced several other sigils into the sand and found that he couldn’t activate a single one of them. Horror had dawned in his eyes and he shrieked in anger.

“THE MAGIC DIED? IT DOESN’T EXIST ANYMORE??” Ohiel and Zese looked over to Eian standing confidently on the ground. Jiliy looked down at him. “We’ll continue this later!”

Chapter 27: For Revenge

Jiliy disappeared without a moment’s notice and the boys were left staring at the empty city. Eian rubbed his nose and looked back at the entryway.

“I have no doubt that he’ll be back looking for a way to get the magic of Venicia back,” he told his two friends.

Zese shrugged his shoulders. “I can only assume that he’s going to seek revenge on you now. For whatever reason you’ve spiked his ire and caused him to dislike you.”

Zese’s sword clanged against the entryway as he turned to leave. “I wouldn’t worry about it. You can defend against him easily enough. Especially now that you know the magic of Venicia is dead.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel any better,” Eian told him a bit wryly.

Ohiel clapped the two of them on the shoulder and spoke, “Why don’t we go investigate this city and see what we can find? We might learn something about why the magic no longer exists in here anymore.”

Eian turned to Isia to ask her a question before his whole body stuttered and the familiar feeling of pain came over him. Isia was gone, dead. She would never be around again. A friend since childhood…gone. Eian at nights still had nightmares about her death, over and over and over again. He couldn’t seem to escape them no matter what he tried. He’d talked to many medics and healers who gave him opiates and medicinal herbs but nothing worked. Her death consistently haunted his nights.

He’d been getting less sleep and the less sleep he got the more sleep deprived and snippy he’d become. Some of the soldiers had noticed the change in his attitude and commented on it. “Your first kill often changes you,” they said and when Eian snapped back,

“My friend is the one who died!” they patted him on the shoulder and told him that it definitely got easier with time no matter what anyone told him. One soldier said to simply keep pushing forward, keep busy, don’t think about it, do your job, save other people.

Eian had tried to take the advice to heart but it was hard. More so now that his hair was white instead of the darker color it had been before. People stared and whispered behind their hands, commenting on the strangeness of it all. Eian had done his very best to ignore these whispers to write them off as people not understanding the sacrifice it was.

Others who understood magic asked if he’d stolen it, or how he managed to get it because they wanted to know how he’d obtained magic power and all he could answer them with was that “she and the magic came to me. I did not seek them out.”

Now that Eian thought about it, perhaps that was the trick. You had to not want something, or to really think about it, to get it. But if that were true more people would have magic. And so he reasoned it out to the simple fact that some people were born to use magic and others were not.

A soldier he’d talked to about this had become furious and shouted at him that, “It’s simply not fair! No one person should be able to have that much power! It’s an addiction! It deserves to die!”

Eian guessed that this man lost someone to magic and he really didn’t want to interfere with something as traumatic as that probably was.

The nightmares after that evening with the soldier had become worse. He’d dreamed he was the one killing off all the people, that he was hell bent on destroying the whole world and to do so he killed randomly and without cause. He slaughtered innocents, men, women and children. He’d been so horrified he’d had to run to the latrines to be sick. His captain had found him there and wasn’t too amused to see him out of bed and making a mess of the newly cleaned latrines.

He was even less impressed when he heard what the dream had been about. “You have to get over this fear and horror of killing. You are a mercenary. You work for money. Do your job or it’ll be you who dies.”

Eian had fled after that with barely a backward glance. He’d huddled in his small tent, shaking and crying as he tried to gather his composure and go back to sleep. He simply couldn’t. He clutched the blankets up to his chest and prayed that the nightmares would go away.

Then the thing with Jiliy happened.

Jiliy was watching him carefully from his perch on the newly formed hill. “What can you do, you little brat? You’re barely into your training and your Source is dead! Now you’re a half source and I bet the other Source’s probably think that you’re ridiculous!”

Eian had growled and launched a magical earth-attack at the man but he’d dodged it with uncanny ease.

“That’s not going to stop me, baby User. You need to use more magic, much more if you ever want a chance in hell of beating me!”

“I only need one moment and you will be dead!” Eian had hissed back in anger.

Jiliy laughed himself sick for a few minutes before rising up and putting on a serious face.

“You think you can take me on? I’ve had so many years of training, there are no repercussions once you go to dark magic. I mean, besides going dark. But what is the problem with that? You have more power! You don’t have to hold onto your control! You can kill, you can do whatever you like!” He laughed with ease. “I enjoy this, you would be able to to if you only let me help you, bring you to the edge.”

“And how would that come about, this extra power and ability?” Eian asked.

Jiliy laughed. “So you are interested?! Good good!”

Eian wasn’t really but he hoped to tease out how exactly Jiliy got his power.

“You have to kill another human being, preferably someone close to you. It’s the only way.”

“Not interested,” Eian had replied and launched his next attack, making the earth slip and slide and bringing Jiliy closer to him.

For a little while these subversive attacks didn’t work, but Eian knew that he was slowly wearing down Jiliy because Jiliy kept launching fast, hard and massive attacks that would drain his magic quicker. Even if he did have more stamina and agility magic could only bring you so far and once you’d exhausted your magic you could very easily kill yourself. Eian was simply waiting for the chance to destroy him. Destroy him with a human weapon and not magic. He couldn’t take that risk.

Finally he got his chance and was about to plunge the dagger into the man’s heart when a cry was raised and a battle broke out.

Eian had been distracted long enough for Jiliy to slip away. After the battle with Jiliy Eian was hopeless. His body was tired and exhausted. He was in no condition to fight so he was taken back to his tent to rest for a while. A while turned into several days and when he was finally better another battle stalled their journey.

And so, Eian thought as they wandered through the lost city, our journey continues.

Chapter 28: Through the City, Truth Revealed

Their journey through the city was unproductive at first. But as they wandered about they found several unique – but odd – things about the city. The first was that there was a whole district completely cloaked in darkness. Not darkness as in night darkness but as in magic darkness. And within that depth Ohiel had sworn he’d seen something moving.

Zese had put it off saying they were still hyped up from seeing Jiliy again and Eian was inclined to agree with him. Carefully Eian stepped around a dark, large watery puddle. But as he stepped around it, it seemed to reach out with a hand. Or at least, water in the shape of a hand. It freaked him out just a bit so he walked on the other side of the street that lacked the strange and mysterious puddles.

Ohiel leaned over one of them before poking a piece of a building into the puddle. The black “goo” rose up around the piece of building and started devouring it. Ohiel dropped the building piece and leapt back, watching warily as the piece disappeared completely.

This of course had garnered Zese’s interest and he poked at the puddles with his sword. But they shied away when they touched the metal wrapped silver.

Zese grinned. “Little fiends don’t like silver it seems.”

Eian winced at how loud Zese talked. It seemed as if one should talk in soft tones, that this city should be revered as sacred because Ohiel said to Zese, “Keep your voice down. You don’t know what you can disturb here in the city.”

Zese frowned but kept his mouth closed as they moved further on into what they had started calling the “Darkness District”.

Every footstep was carefully placed so as not to disturb anything that might accidentally rile an unforgiving enemy of the light.

Light, Eian though, was what was missing from this city. It was dim and dark and cold and lonely. There was nothing good or true about this city. In fact he wondered how people could have ever lived here.

“Is magic supposed to do this?” Zese inquired.

Eian shook his head. “I don’t think so. Dark magic maybe, but even then this is very strange.”

Eian buried his fingers in his pockets. “It’s freezing though and it’s strange. The city looks untouched by water. Almost as if it were frozen.”

Ohiel looked up at the spire of a “church” as they were called. “It does, doesn’t it? This icy-blue glow. Strange. I wish we had more time to study it.”

Zese pointed towards a rather large building. An ornate building, one of beautiful pure white stone. In fact it looked to be the only white thing in this Darkness District within the city.

Of course Zese automatically headed towards it. Eian and Ohiel did their best to keep up with him and didn’t have time to stop him when he threw the doors to the, what the realized later was, palace.

The inside held some of the similar icy-blue hue, but this one looked natural. It looked as if it had come from a winter wonderland.

Eian approved of this immensely. He thought it was absolutely lovely and enjoyed every second of it as he walked through the palace behind Ohiel and Zese.

Soon they reached what looked like a throne room. Zese flung the doors wide and stared around.

“Th-this is!” he stammered.

“What is it?”

“This is the same room from my vision – except it is colorless!”

Eian stepped up to his side and stared in curiosity. “It looks like the current throne room of Aniatea, doesn’t it?”

“It does now that you mention it,” Ohiel agreed as he explored some of the areas, “except it’s in different colors. I wonder what that means.”

“It means,” a voice spoke from the darkness, “that you’ve invaded my territory.”

Eian looked up expecting to see Jiliy but instead he saw a twisted and dark creature, one that didn’t look to be the slightest bit human.

It hissed and grinned at them. “There is no escape for you know, little humans. You are no match for a vampire.”

“A vampire?” Zese mouthed to himself and looked towards Ohiel who shrugged.

Eian stepped forward. “You were created from Dark Magic, or dark Magic made you become this, am I right?”

“Oh yes, little Source. I am the magic and the magic is me,” it cackled and swooped down to stand in front of Eian. “Pretty little thing you are, what were you thinking in coming here?”

Eian stood straight in defiance of this overbearing creature. “I don’t need to tell you what I do. You are not the master of me!”

The vampire laughed and circled Eian who didn’t move a muscle.

“In that you are right, brave human.”

It paused. “How interesting. Part human and part Source. You certainly are intriguing. The Dark Source would enjoy you immensely.”

“Dark Source?”

The Vampire grinned. “Never you mind, that’s not for you to know. Your friends will die. I like you so I think I might keep you little pet.”

“I’m not your pet!”

The vampire laughed again and trailed a sharp finger down Eian’s cheek cutting skin.

“Really? Why do you quake so when I draw near? That seems to mean fear to me.”

Before anymore could be said the vampire shrieked as Zese pierced its heart with his sword. The vampire faded out quickly, his eyes tracking and promising certain death to the three of them.

Ohiel licked his lips. “Well, that was an interesting encounter.”

Eian nodded a little nervously. “I think it’s time we returned to –”

He was cut off as Zese in all his brutish manners sank into the seat of the throne.

For a moment it was all absolutely dizzying and then they were right side up again.

Blinking a few times to reorient himself Eian looked around. They were exactly where they were a few minutes ago except this throne room was of red and gold. Ohiel was standing over by a large canvas and it looked like as he stood there that he was painting. Zese had moved towards the doorway and was staring in horror.

“This is what I saw…” he whispered. “This is…this is my vision, exactly!”

“And you’re the one who caused it,” Eian told him a little spitefully. “We’re as far as we could be from our stations. We are across a whole continent. Who would believe us when we say we travelled here by magic portal?”

“No one,” Jiliy’s voice echoed from the caverns. “I’ve been waiting for you here for months now, well, only what felt like months here. I had a vision, or well my master had a vision, that you would appear here at this day and time.”

“Months?” Eian queried. “We’ve only not seen each other for a few hours!”

“Wrong,” Jiliy’s voice hissed again. “You displaced yourselves. You touched something,” he turned to Zese, “and that city displaces time, so you crossed into a complicated time length. You’re all going to die so it’s a moot point.”

“So,” Ohiel said edging closer to the slowly morphing Jiliy, “You’re saying that time got distorted because Zese touched something?”

“Yes. You see, on this throne,” he ran his fingers down the length of the arm, “is an exact replica of the throne room in Venicia. Venicia however due to the Princess’s tampering was thrown into the waves of time. She sank it into the sea but for some reason magic interfered and froze it in time. Or someone did. Then this throne room was created right after Venicia sank. This time period here and now, is in the past.” He smiled. “Technically no time is passing since you are simply floating in this space. No time passes here and your time is frozen when someone passes through…it’s complicated and I don’t really understand it myself. All I know though is that to go back you have to activate something. But first,” he turned to Eian and grinned, “we have something to resolve. There is true power here and I will take my vengeance!”

He lunged forward and caught Eian around the neck, squeezing hard. Zese jumped in and knocked him back with a well-timed kick.

Jiliy’s face distorted. “I’m not going to get stuck here because of you three – I was sent here to stop you and so I shall!”

He grabbed Ohiel and tossed him across the room with vigor. The night was dark and deep and Jiliy’s magic was stronger at the time.

Eian lifted the earth and thumped it to the ground again.

“Those petty tricks aren’t going to work on me any longer!” he hissed and grabbed at Eian who dodged out of the way.

Ohiel struck next, aiming at his gut, but instead got a face full of fingers and was tossed to the side yet again.

Even Zese the superior warrior was useless as he leaned against a wall attempting to prop himself up, his sword laying broken in multiple places several feet from him where it was thrown when he hit the wall.

He clambered to his feet where he made for the only other sword in the room – the ceremonial sword. He had pulled it off the rack and all of a sudden in a twisting motion they found themselves standing back in the icy blue palace.

Heaving in a deep breath Zese attacked only to be thrown across the room yet again.

Chapter 29: Into the Daylight from the Dark

Eian knew what he had to do. He looked up to the sky for guidance but none was forthcoming. Zese lay propped up against a destroyed wall bleeding from his side. Even from here Eian could see his breathing was labored. He wouldn’t last long at this rate. Ohiel wasn’t moving at all where he lay on the floor. He glanced towards the dark power that was forming and ran to Zese’s side. “Zese? Can you hear me?”

“Eian,” Zese’s hand was weak as he gripped Eian’s forearm. “Be careful.”

“Be still,” Eian whispered. His shock of white hair fell forward in his eyes as he healed Zese. He felt utter relief as Ohiel twitched and gave a small moan.

Still alive. They were both still alive. He stood and picked up Zese’s sword where it lay, fallen next to its master.

The sword was heavier than he thought it would be. He grimaced as it pulled on his injured collarbone. Still he hefted it into the air and it as it caught the light it sparkled a brilliant silver. The shadow it cast on the wall was large and dominating. He breathed through his nose as he prepared to face the encroaching shadow.

Jiliy stepped out of the darkness and into the quickly fading light of the room. His once handsome features were distorted with hatred and anger. The magic that he used had corrupted him beyond humanity. There was no human left inside anymore. All that was human had been eradicated by the black magic and as Eian looked at him he realized that the magic was killing him slowly and painfully. His human shell simply couldn’t handle the power that was raging inside of him. Eian wondered if he could stall long enough if the former human shell of Jiliy would self destruct on its own. He watched as the shell wavered from side to side as it sought to find its balance.

Behind him he could still hear the slightly ragged breathing of Zese as his body continued to heal through the use of magic. In the corner of the opposite side of the room Ohiel had managed to prop himself up but he was holding one hand to his face. But when he uncovered his face for a brief moment he saw that Ohiel had lost an eye. He wished he could go over and do something at the moment but he knew he was running out of time.

The icy blue throne room continued to reflect the night. In a few moments Eian knew the sun would be rising and the dark would be over. But for now he had to trust that he could hold off Jiliy long enough. All the old fairy tales he had heard – he wondered if they were true. If true evil despised the sun. He knew it might be one of his chances to help defeat the evil creature that now resided inside Jiliy’s body.

Carefully he maneuvered himself so that his back was facing the windowed wall.

The creature of dark magic that had once been Jiliy smiled in a way that sent chills down Eian’s back. As he prepared to raise the sword a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He lowered the sword a fraction as he turned his head. Standing almost in the middle of the room was a female figure. She was regal, beautiful.

“Princess…” he whispered. She turned to him and smiled.

“Eian,” she spoke. “Isia’s spirit called to me from the Afterlife and begged me to come here to you. She said that it might be your only chance.”

Her pure radiance was nearly blinding to him and he sought to see her through the light but the more he looked the brighter she became.

“Come closer. I have a gift to give to you. It may help you to defeat this creature of the dark.”

Eian approached her slowly if not a bit hesitantly. She held out one delicate hand and kept it out as Eian approached her.

Once he was in front of her she looked him over, looked at his bruised and battered body.

“I cannot heal your injuries, I can only give you the strength to continue on this quest of yours.”

She paused. “You always wanted to know what killed your parents. I suppose you learned a few days ago that these creatures of the dark are called vampires and are what murdered your parents. Now you have the chance to kill the thing that led you down this path – the thing that caused all this pain and sadness to happen. And it is my duty as a goddess to help you fight this thing. I can no longer kill myself but you as a vessel can do it for me. I always thought it was Zese who was destined for greatness. I can see I was wrong, it was you who was destined for greatness. I simply saw you through him. Now put that sword down and give me your hands for a moment.”

He placed the sword on the ground and placed his hands in hers. A bright light emanated from her and into him for a few long seconds it felt like he was dying, like he was weakening but when she pulled away he found his strength restored.

“Now hand me your sword. Well, Zese’s sword.”

Eian picked it up off the floor and passed it to her. She murmured something over it and it too began to glow a golden color. She handed it back to him and whispered, “Good luck,” before she disappeared.

Eian lifted the sword towards the sky and faced his opponent. He found very quickly that his strength was nearly not enough to stop the incoming blows from this mystical creature. Fear for his life heightened his instincts and he desperately lunged this way and that trying to gain the advantage that would allow him to win. But at every moment he was blocked. Anger was slowly rising to the surface and his magic began to leak out and pour into the sword.

The vampire hissed, “You’re going to die a slow and painful death. You will never win this battle!” it cackled and threw his arms open wide. “Look at me! I’m immortal, I am a god! And you are simply a puny human who can’t even use his magic for anything!”

Eian tightened his grip on the sword and with the agility he had gained thanks to the Princess he managed to get right inside the Vampire’s open arms. It grinned as it looked down at him.

“That will be your final mistake!”

Its fingers were thin, sharp and bone like and they slid a knife through Eian’s back to the hilt with ease.

“Good bye, little magic User.”

Eian felt blood seeping out of the gaping wound the vampire had left in his back. Eian looked up and spoke through a mouthful of blood.

“I’d be more worried about what you’re going to do,” he said and pulled the sword from the Vampires chest as he slumped to the floor.

The vampire that used to be Jiliy shrieked at the wound and patted it trying to make it heal. But then he shrieked again as the first rays of the sunrise lit the throne room making the room into an ethereal place. It was no longer cold and dark as it had been when they first walked in, but a safe haven. Eian closed his eyes for a moment before weakly turning his head to look out the window as he watched the sun rise. His blood covered hand still lay clenched about the sword whose magic had faded the moment it was pushed into darkness’s heart.

The vampire stumbled into his line of sight cursing him before bursting into flame and disintegrating where he stood.

The evil was gone, Eian thought as the sun’s rays nearly blinded him, and the world will go back to what it would have been had the plague never occurred. It’ll be a better tomorrow. He thought as his breath caught for one last moment.

Epilogue

Zese uncrossed his legs at Ohiel’s look and did his best to look more kingly. In the year that had passed since the fight with Jiliy the war had ended. Not by choice though. By the King’s choice.

In the records, albeit the records were spotty at places, it was found that Zese despite being rough around the edges (in many ways) was the only descendent of the first Royal Family still alive. He was crowned promptly and officially once his origins were proven.

Zese had done his best to deny it but respected scholars had deduced his great-grandfather had been ordered to hide their line away in case any great catastrophe came to pass. And indeed it had. Now Zese by simple and pure luck had become king of a realm he had no real interest in.

He tried to look interested in the latest tactical strategy, but he just couldn’t.

“Why can’t you just do it?” he grumbled to Ohiel who simply patted his back without sympathy.

“It’s just as the Princess predicted, you were destined for something greater. You stopped a war, and got an entire country back on track.”

Ohiel paused.

“Even if you did have to make Venicia its own separate country to do so.”

Magic had slowly been reforming in the world. Maybe the Source’s decided humans were to be trusted again, but Zese soon found that the few people who could now do magic were often persecuted. So in honor of Eian he’d made Venicia its own country – with the contract that said Aniatea’s laws and government still had the final say in anything it did.

Venicia’s new king had agreed on the single stipulation that whoever was closest to the Source would be king. Confused Zese had agreed nonetheless, not desiring to ask too many questions.

Although magic was staring to become more active in Aniatea itself people were still wary after what had happened.

And, Zese thought to himself as he trudged through the graveyard, they have every right to be.

He stopped at a gravestone and looked down at it a little sadly. “I wonder what they meant by the Dark Source. That’s a good enough reason to still be wary, that this fight isn’t over yet,” he asked as the snow tumbled down around him as he looked up into the starry sky as he spoke, “Right Eian?”

Impressum

Texte: M Mixson
Bildmaterialien: M. Mixson
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.04.2014

Alle Rechte vorbehalten

Widmung:
to my wonderful friends and family who always said that I could do whatever I wanted with my life. You’re the ones who gave me the support to complete this book.