The Arcane War Read online

  "No!" Aral repeated, speaking over her brother forcefully. "Naran isn't a mage. He'd be vulnerable."

  "He's vulnerable either way," Davri said. "You won't be dropped from your classes. We'll have everything cleared up sooner. And Krecek won't face whatever dire consequences they think up upon his return."

  "We're not exposing his young mind to those horrors." She looked resolute.

  Naran's small voice piped up with, "You said we'd be going home."

  Aral looked like he'd just slapped her.

  "Your sister is right," Krecek said kindly. "Enchanted paths aren't safe, even for mages. I shouldn't have brought it up."

  "If you're disavowed for investigating, you won't be doing us any good." Davri looked smug, triumphant. "So, we compromise. Aral and Naran stay here, while Krecek and I take the path. I've been down enchanted paths before, and I've lived to tell about it. It would be safer with three, but in a pinch I could do it alone. And I have."

  "Now you're just bragging," Krecek chuckled for a moment. "It's a risk, but if two of us went while two stayed behind.... Naran would be safe here with one of us for a single day."

  Aral grabbed a pillow almost violently and got into one of the two beds. "I'd better get as much sleep as I can tonight. Davri, you'd better keep my brother safe. If he dies before Krecek and I return, I will destroy you."

  "Wait!" Davri's jaw dropped. "It was my idea. I like enchanted paths. I should get to go." He was pouting like a child denied a Nightwatch gift.

  "They're my parents," Aral said. "I want to see their grave and pay respects. Krecek has to come with me so that he can see for himself that they are interred there. You've already proven I can trust you with Naran's life. We might be able to find the high priest responsible for this mistake without exposing the two of you to more danger." She smiled grimly. "If we can take an enchanted path, so can the rest of the former mages from the temple. We need to assume that word will spread ahead of us. If Krecek and I are the only ones seen together to investigate, he'll have a plausible excuse for his actions rather than if he is seen with you. Weren't you paying attention, Davri? They're looking for you, specifically. Not Naran. Not yet."

  "All I did was push him and run," Davri said, voice weak. "It's not like I stabbed him, or..." He trailed off, looking at Krecek pleadingly.

  "Ervain is claiming that you tried to kill him," Krecek said. He didn't bother disguising his disgust and derision at the accusation. "When he fell, he hit his head on the candle rack. We all know he's just being dramatic, but…there was a lot of blood. It won't be easy to defend you unless…"

  "You don't sound terribly concerned," Davri pointed out.

  "I don't like Ervain," Krecek shrugged. "He's a swine and a parasite. There's something about him, something I can't put my finger on, but…something's off about him. He seems out of place, and he couldn't magic his way out of an open door. Still, as a priest at the same temple, we have obligations toward him."

  "You have to take his side, publicly," Davri sounded bitter, "even if the rest of you can't stand him in private. Otherwise, the rabble might rise."

  "Yes."

  The bluntness of the answer silenced the others. Krecek finished readying for bed, ignoring the gentle murmur of conversation between Naran and Aral curled up together in the other bed. He lay with his back turned to Davri and agonized. This whole thing was probably a fool's errand, but he had to try. This was once too many for him to keep his silence again.

  The heavy pack and shoulder bag Aral had packed were almost useless now, she realized. In the rosy light of dawn, she was moving things around, putting things in the bag that she might need for defense. She'd gotten dressed already, eschewing her student robes for sturdy pants and a long, loose shirt. It wasn't flattering, but it would be practical for the situation.

  "Do you want something to eat, before we leave?" Krecek asked in a whisper.

  Aral shook her head. "Not hungry," she whispered back, not wanting to wake Naran or Davri. She straightened, patting herself down to make sure she had just what she would need. "I'm ready to leave if you are."

  He grabbed one more thing and then they slipped out the door.

  "I've never actually taken an enchanted path," she said a few paces away from the door. "All I know is that they're dangerous, but they weren't at first. What are they like? What should I expect?"

  "Don't worry, you'll see for yourself soon enough. My father said that when he and the others created them, they forgot to account for something they call temporal bleed. They'd warped time to their purposes to make travel fast."

  "Wait." Aral stopped in her tracks. "Your father's that old? And that powerful?"

  "Yes."

  It left Aral stunned. She followed him out of the inn, at a loss for further words.

  "As I was saying, they warped time. The way he explained it to me was that there's some sort of a backlash, where the future and the past are creeping in on the pathways. I can't explain all the things that lurk there, and I don't know what we'll see as we travel. Just be prepared."

  Aral nodded. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly. The anticipation was probably worse than the path itself. Unknowns were always worse than reality, right?

  "How do we do it? How do we enter the path?"

  "You can enter just about anywhere," he said. Krecek then held up a hand, moved it from left to right, and said, "Hasidah."

  Aral recognized it as a word of magic that was often used as part of many incantations to find specific items. Hearing the word alone puzzled her. She opened her mouth to ask him what spell he was doing, how it worked, but then she saw what he had done.

  In the spot he had waved his hand, reality seemed to blur and warp. In the span of a breath, she was surrounded by it. There were harsh edges and straight lines, deep shadows and harsh lights. There were shadowy figures here and there that were only visible from the corner of her eye.

  "If I say run, you run. If I say hide, you hide. If I say freeze, don't even blink. And if I say fight, don't incapacitate. Fight to kill, or we'll both die."

  Krecek shivered, rubbing his arms to bring back warmth. The enchanted path hadn't been particularly cold, but fear had spread what chill was in the air to his heart. It was a relief to be off of it, even if it hadn't been as bad as the first time he'd traveled with his father.

  "That was…it was worse than I imagined," Aral stuttered beside him, teeth on the verge of chattering. "Those buildings…and the starkness of the roads. The creatures, when we had to go into the darkness…."

  "I know," Krecek said, putting a hand on her arm. "It's never easy."

  "How was Davri so eager?" Aral frowned, placing her hand over Krecek's briefly in acknowledgment. "He wanted to bring Naran with us…through that?"

  "I don't know," he said. A thought occurred to him and he grinned. "Perhaps he wanted to impress you? They say fear is an aphrodisiac."

  Aral laughed, and it was a beautiful sound considering all that had happened. "No, no. We're just friends. I don't know how many times I've had to say that to people."

  "Are you sure?"

  She seemed to have a flippant answer prepared, but she stopped herself. "We've talked about it," she shrugged. "We're both concentrating on our studies. And…I think he's in love with someone else."

  "Ah." Krecek took a deep breath, dismissing thoughts about relationships. He looked around, centering himself on reality, on the here and now. "We should get this over with. We still have a return journey through all of that after we're done here."

  Aral clenched her jaw, nodded. "I'll show you where the cemetery is. Their headstone was placed just last month. Next to my grandmother, I think they said."

  They walked quickly, solemn silence slipping between them.

  Krecek kept replaying the memory of Aral's laugh, hating that her joy had been so short lived. Hating more that he had been the one to stop it. He reminded himself, this wasn't some vacation. It wasn't an excuse to spend time with a pret
ty girl. This was life or death for someone she cared about.

  It was easier to keep his mind on track as they walked the rows of headstones. The air here was warm and heavy, compared to both Anogrin and the enchanted path. It made the walk feel tiring, adding weight to what they were here for.

  Aral took a few sudden, hurried steps, and then froze.

  This was it, then.

  It was a granite headstone, chiseled with skill, precision, and expertly worked magic. The names, Haran and Meli Tennival, were fresh and crisp. Grass had not yet spread entirely over the grave.

  He paused a moment to remember Haran. Kind. Studious. Irreverent. Wild. Genius. They'd been friends at times. Rivals at others. They'd had a few advanced classes together. Krecek had already been a priest at the time. He'd taken a few of the advanced courses in his spare time, to learn a broader perspective on magic. Haran had helped him out of his shell a bit. Invited him to as many parties as he did study sessions. They talked about expectations. About talent. About the differences between elves and humans. About being an outcast among your own kind, and how it felt. How it shaped both their paths.

  That young man, full of life and promise, had grown up and had a family. He'd moved on to live a full life. He'd become a great mage, married to an equally talented spellsmith of great renown. And now, here they were.

  Dead.

  Krecek took a charcoal rubbing of the headstone, then rolled up the paper and put it safely in a scroll case. First bit of evidence. It was a start.

  He then stepped back and gave Aral time.

  It was the least he could do. He vividly recalled the death of his own mother. How his life had been upended by her loss. Now, here stood Aral, having lost both parents at once. Krecek could only imagine how much worse that must feel.

  She didn't take as long as Krecek thought she would. She turned abruptly and wiped away tears with an almost violent gesture.

  "I'll show you to the temple of healing." Her voice was steady but strained, sounding forced. "It's where they would have gone. There's a high priest there. I've known him for years."

  "Are you sure you're ready for this?" He reached for her, but she stepped away.

  "No," she said. "If we wait until I'm ready, we might not ever move. I just want this behind me." More tears. The hem of her sleeves had to be soaked, but they continued on in silence.

  Thalanis was a beautiful town on a hill. There were cobblestone streets and brick houses, and everything was painted in vibrant colors. Children played and parents gossiped, people waved and said hello to Aral. When they saw that she traveled with a priest, with a half elf, the friendly overtures stalled. Warmth turned to hesitant smiles and quickly turned backs as people found somewhere else to be. The furthest anyone got was to tell Aral that they were sorry about her parents, but she only nodded and maintained her pace.

  The temple, when they reached it, seemed quaint to Krecek's jaded eyes. The architecture was grander than anything surrounding it. It was obviously a temple. It just looked drab next to the spectacle and show he was used to.

  It seemed too innocuous to be the place that had started all this excitement.

  Aral pulled herself together, squaring her shoulders before walking in.

  So young to have to be so strong, he thought, looking at her. He'd spare her all of this if he could.

  "I'm looking for Vigat."

  The humble seeming priestess at the doors nodded. "He's been waiting for you." She gestured Aral to the back, toward open doors to the right of the altar. The priestess then turned to Krecek, looked confused when he strode past, with Aral. "Just Aral. We weren't aware of another priest visiting."

  "It's just a formality," Krecek said, smiling kindly. "I'm here to see everything is straightened out."

  "Show them both in!" someone called from the room. Vigat, presumably.

  "Very well," the priestess said with a heavy, disapproving sigh. "It's irregular, but everything has been lately."

  They walked into the room and the priestess shut the door behind them.

  Vigat sat behind a desk, elbows on the surface, hands steepled before him. He was a thin, balding man with a hooked nose. He wore the vestments of a high priest, but something felt odd.

  Off.

  "Aral, it took you long enough to get here." Vigat smirked. He smirked! Of all the crass reactions… "All these months? You always pretended to be a dutiful daughter, but now we have the truth."

  "I had classes. After everything they did to make sure I was accepted into the university, I couldn't just leave. It would have dishonored their memory. They wouldn't have wanted that; my mother sent a letter—"

  "Spare me," Vigat rolled his eyes. He then stood, the very picture of impatience. "What do you want, Aral? I am a very busy man…"

  "You know what I want!" She took a step forward, hands clenched in fists, but Vigat didn't move, didn't flinch. "You gave my parents an impossible choice. Their lives, or their son's life. Remove the mark of sacrifice from him! They're dead. You got what you wanted. Spare him."

  "Beg for his life," Vigat said. "Grovel at my feet."

  He said it simply. So simply that Krecek was dumbfounded.

  "Please," Aral said, chin high and trembling. "Please don't do this."

  "At my feet."

  How could a priest of the god of healing be so needlessly cruel?

  Aral slowly got to her knees. She kept looking at Vigat in disbelief, hesitating as if he'd stop her.

  He just waited, watching. Feigning boredom.

  Beneath the façade he was growing angry.

  Impatient.

  Her forehead met his boot, and finally Vigat made a low murmur of approval.

  "I beg of you. Spare my brother. He is all that I have left."

  Vigat reached down and began to pet her, as if she were a cat. He looked up at Krecek, gave a conspiratorial wink. "She'll do anything I ask of her, with her brother's life on the line. Any requests?"

  Chapter Four –

  Adrift

  Krecek stared.

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "She knows why," Vigat said. He reached down, hooking a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Don't you, Aral?"

  She ducked her head and sank somehow lower to the ground. "Please don't," she whispered.

  "What sort of priest of Garatara would do this?" Krecek asked, horrified. He felt a twinge of guilt, mentioning the god's name in the presence of one who was uninitiated. The names were considered holy secrets among humans.

  "Me?" Vigat laughed. "Do I look like a healer? I'm no priest of his, I just work at this temple." He stood, tilting his head to the side. "What sort of priest of Nalia stands back and simply complains?"

  Vigat was right.

  Krecek began with a silent prayer to Nalia, asking for her aid against the pretender before him.

  Nothing. There wasn't even a hint of response.

  "Nalia, please," he said under his breath.

  The response was laconic, disinterested.

  Busy.

  Bored.

  "Garatara?" Surely the god of healing, himself, would be interested in righting the wrong being committed in his name.

  "Anyone?"

  Nothing.

  "Did you think you were special?" Vigat met Krecek's gaze and held it. Power emanated from him from some unknown god. "That they'd listen to you, because you're just so pious?"

  Nalia was fickle, which was a fact Krecek knew well. A reply would have been helpful, but it wasn't necessary.

  There was a reason Krecek had been a mage, first.

  He smiled grimly, blasting a wave of pure energy at Vigat. It was sloppy, but powerful. It should have been enough to be effective.

  Instead of being pinned to a wall, Vigat disappeared, laughing.

  Aral sat up, looked around. "What happened?"

  He couldn't have teleported away, Krecek thought. That was impossible.

  Had Vigat been an illusion?

>   Perhaps.

  "He's gone," Krecek said, at a loss.

  "This is my fault, isn't it?" Aral's voice was high pitched, strained with emotion. "I turned down his advances. In public. I humiliated him for grabbing my breast. I should have just let him."

  "No," Krecek soothed. He kneeled beside her, put an arm around her shoulders. "It's not your fault. Any girl of your status would have done the same. There's something more to this. We'll find it, and we'll save your brother."

  Aral held him tight, wrapped her arms around him like a drowning victim.

  The tears that soaked through Krecek's shirt were still hot when she pulled abruptly away.

  She took deep breaths, wiping her face with her sleeves again, roughly.

  "We need to get back to Naran and Davri," she said. "They need to know they're still in danger. There's no time for tears and hopelessness." Her chin quivered and her voice was unsteady, but the determination in her eyes had already set in.

  This was the first attempt to save Naran.

  Not the last.

  Agruet paced along the ledge of the building, watching the road beneath.

  Watching the shadows grow.

  "Mother should never have allowed the elves to create these accursed pathways," he muttered.

  The tall, stark structures unnerved him. Their empty, shadowed doorways and windows were gaping holes in featureless walls that reached for blank sky. Even when it rained the sky was a perfectly blank shade of gray.

  The paths were dangerous. Unstable.

  Paradox and entropy married and at war in perfectly balanced tears in time and space.

  The buildings were relics of a distant future. The shadows were ripped from the chaotic nightmare of creation itself.

  And even the gods were incidental smudges across the landscape.

  In the distance Agruet heard a loud pop. The sound of something whistling past made him jump.

  Was someone shooting at him?

  Shooting at a god upon an enchanted path?

  Well, if they were ever going to have a chance, this was the only place that it could happen. He didn't wait to see what sort of spells were engraved on the bullet or pellet or whatever sort of ammunition they'd devised in the future. He teleported to the bottom level of the building, startling a dozen mutants in the process.