CHAPTER 4 
CHAPTER 4 Rachel sat on a stone, the stub of a candle in one hand. She muttered a quick Edomic phrase. Staring intently at the wick, she willed it to be the focal point referenced in the phrase, and the candle flamed to life.
She blew out the tiny light. A thread of smoke curled upward.
Rachel repeated the phrase, exerted her will, and the little flame flared back into existence. She held her hand above it, feeling the warmth. She had now performed this trick hundreds of times, but she still experienced a fresh thrill each time the candle ignited.
She blew out the flame, then reignited it.
The effort used to tire her. Now it was easier than striking a match.
She blew out the flame.
Brought it back.
Blew it out.
Brought it back.
“You’re getting too good at that,” a voice said dryly. Startled, Rachel dropped the candle and turned to find Drake standing over her, his dark hair tied back in a ponytail, his flat features impassive. “You’d better slow down, or soon you’ll be instructing me.”
The candle had gone out when she dropped it. She picked it up. “You should let me light the next campfire.”
“I expect you could by now,” Drake agreed. “But we have to keep moving.”
“You found more marks?”
“Fresh ones. We’ve almost caught up to her.”
Rachel stashed the candle in her bag. She and Drake had been roaming these hills for more than a week, looking for the charm woman. Drake had insisted she represented their best chance of getting the lurker off their trail.
After splitting with Tark, Drake had led Rachel deep into the wilderness. The seedman had reasoned that since the lurker seemed to be tracking them for their enemies, the farther they got from civilization, the safer they would be. He had further hoped that perhaps the lurker would abandon them to follow Tark or else give up after participating in a fruitless chase with no end in sight.
The strategy had succeeded in avoiding interference from other imperial servants. But even after weeks on the run in the wild, Drake continued to catch glimpses of the torivor tracking them. Rachel had even seen it once—a humanoid silhouette crouched on a high ledge, backlit by the moon.
Drake had been able to provide whatever they needed as they roamed secluded mountain valleys and uninhabited forests—fish, fowl, venison, nuts, berries, mushrooms, and bubblefruit all combined to nourish them. The horses also found plenty of opportunities to graze and drink.
As the days passed, and the lurker neither attacked nor went away, Drake had remembered a woman who had once helped him save a friend from a flesh-eating disease. At the time Drake had asked the charm woman how she managed to use Edomic without drawing the notice of the emperor. She had replied that the emperor was well aware of her, but that she had a way of avoiding even his torivors, which allowed her to practice her craft in peace.
Based on that memory, and the hope that the charm woman still resided in the same vicinity where he had found her years ago, Drake had led Rachel south, into the wooded hills west of a sizable body of water called Jepson Lake. He had explained that the charm woman moved around a lot, but left coded markings to enable those who needed her services to locate her.
After a few futile days of wandering, Drake had recognized her marks on a boulder, and although the trail was cold, over the past several days he had maintained that the marks kept getting fresher. Each collection of marks looked like nonsense to Rachel, but Drake had explained that while most of the marks were meaningless distractions, a few left clear instructions once you knew how to read them. When she asked the secret, he said the charm woman would have to tell her, because he had vowed never to reveal how to decode the marks.
During the past weeks, Rachel had tried her best not to fixate on the negative. She tried not to count how many days it had been since she had slept in a bed. She attempted to downplay how many times she had felt too hot, too cold, too sore, or too dirty. She strove to ignore how regularly she had been forced to ride, run, swim, or climb long after exhaustion would have normally demanded that she rest. She pushed away thoughts of her parents. She endeavored to forget about the endless conveniences of modern America that she had once taken for granted.
And she especially tried to not think about Jason.
Whenever her thoughts turned to him, it was like pressing an infected wound, increasing the pain without any realistic hope of making it better. Yet often she couldn’t resist. In moments of fear or discomfort, she wondered how much worse he had it, rotting in some filthy cell in the dungeons of Felrook. She pictured him cold, hungry, alone. She imagined him enduring ruthless torture. And she prayed that he was still alive.
Rachel climbed onto her horse and Drake mounted his. He led the way up a forested hillside and down into the valley beyond. He reined in his stallion near a cluster of boulders. She drew up beside him.
“See the grove on the far side of the valley?” Drake asked.
Rachel nodded. “Are the next markings so close?”
“No. Unless I’m mistaken, we should find our charm woman there.”
“Really?”
He flicked the reins, and his horse charged forward. Rachel followed, urging her mare to a gallop. The valley floor blurred by beneath her. She had been a competent horsewoman before coming to Lyrian, but after weeks on the run, most often on horseback, riding had become second nature.
It felt good to let her horse race at top speed, even if she had no hope of keeping up with Drake. He had not brought Mandibar to a full gallop for weeks, and Rachel had almost forgotten how truly fast the stallion could move.
Drake slowed his mount to a walk as he reached the edge of the grove. Rachel slowed as she caught up.
“What was that about?” Rachel asked.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Maybe I wanted to remind you who has the fastest horse.”
“Maybe you’re just in a good mood.”
He shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything.” He patted the stallion. “He’s not even tired. I’ve never ridden his equal. I may not have particularly liked Kimp, but I owe him for his fine taste in steeds.”
“May he rest in pieces,” Rachel said solemnly.
Drake chuckled, covering his grin with one hand. “It’s bad luck to malign the dead.”
She had made the same joke a few times before, and only kept repeating it because it always made Drake smile. “Don’t be a sissy. He tried to feed you to his dogs. He had it coming.” She had also noticed how it amused him when she talked tough. Deep down, beneath the banter, she remained haunted by the sight of Jasher and Kimp being blown apart when an orantium sphere had accidentally detonated in a grassy field near Harthenham.
Drake dismounted and gathered Mandibar’s reins. “Let’s lead them well into the trees before tethering them. I don’t like how near we’re getting to settlements.”
Rachel climbed down and led her horse into the grove. “How do we get this charm woman to help us?”
“We ask,” Drake replied. “On the only other occasion I’ve visited her, when she healed my friend Kaleb, she would accept no payment. I take it she’ll either aid us or she won’t. I expect she will if she can.”
They tethered the horses, and Rachel followed Drake deeper into the grove. He kept a hand on his sword. The trees were not very tall, but they had thick trunks with deeply grooved bark. Heavy, twisting limbs tangled overhead. She imagined that after nightfall the place would look haunted.
The undergrowth remained sparse enough to proceed without a trail. At length, Drake waved Rachel to a halt. He pointed up ahead, and she saw a long string of colorful beads looped around the knob of a fat tree. Three feathered hoops hung at the bottom of the strand.
“What is it?” Rachel whispered.
“Charm woman!” Drake called, raising his voice enough to make Rachel flinch. “We have met before! Please console us in our hour of need!”
They waited. Drake held a finger to his lips to discourage Rachel from speaking.
“You may pass” came a reply, well after Rachel had stopped expecting one. The sonorous female voice sounded younger than Rachel had anticipated.
Drake led Rachel past the strand of painted beads. As they advanced, she noticed various trinkets—some fashioned out of metal, some of bone or ivory, others of stone—dangling from other trees and shrubs.
They reached a small clearing. In the center awaited a large tent composed of stitched animal hides in mottled shades of gray and brown. The head of a wolf, still attached to the pelt, lolled over the entrance. Small carvings and graven figures surrounded the tent in a loose circle.
A woman appeared, taller than Rachel, but hunched, with ratty silver hair and a face that looked too young and smooth to match her spotted, wrinkled hands. She wore crude brown garments belted at the waist, and a colorful shawl. In one gnarled hand she held a staff topped by dangling trinkets that clinked when in motion.
“Drake,” she greeted, her voice melodious. “I believed we would meet again.”
“I would not have bet on it,” he answered. “Until recently I expected to rot and die in Harthenham.”
“You have brought a visitor,” the charm woman said. “What is your name, sweetling?”
“Rachel.”
Her attention returned to Drake. “What is your need?”
“We’re being chased by a lurker.”
The woman squinted. “Yes, I have sensed one nearby. It has been years since Maldor deployed a torivor.”
“Can you help us?” Drake asked.
“You have brought a terrible threat my way. But that harm is already done. We shall see if I can help you. Remove your footwear.”
Drake took off his supple boots and Rachel squatted to untie hers. The woman slipped strings of dark beads accented with teeth over each of their heads, mumbling quiet phrases.
The charm woman stepped back and invited them into the tent. Barefoot, Rachel ducked through the doorway. Three large bearskins lay on the ground. Elaborate mobiles hung from the ceiling, displaying a variety of gently spinning ornaments and crystals. Simple dolls made of wood and yarn sat opposite the entry in a staggered row. Incense burned inside hollow statues, aromatic smoke filtering through tiny holes, the heady scent mingling with the earthy smells of ashes and old leather.
The charm woman crouched on a low stool and gestured for Drake and Rachel to sit on the bearskins. The thick fur felt soft.
“How long has this torivor been after you?” the woman asked, her eyes on Drake.
“Five weeks,” Drake said.
“Has it guided soldiers to you?”
“Yes, until I led Rachel far into the wilderness.”
“The torivor has remained with you?”
“I continue to see it. Not clearly or often, but consistently.”
The woman rubbed a coin with a hole in the center that hung from a cord around her neck. “When was the last time you saw it?”
“Last night,” Drake replied.
“No.”
The charm woman turned to Rachel. “How about your dreams?”
“How would I know?”
“You would know.” Her attention shifted back to Drake. “Is it more interested in you or the girl?”
“Almost certainly the girl.”
“Why?”
Drake glanced uncomfortably at Rachel. “I’m not sure we should confess why, charm woman. It could place you in greater danger.”
The woman laughed, quick and loud. “I could not be in greater danger. The emperor has hunted me for years. You have brought a torivor to my threshold. Speak candidly. The more I know, the better I can help.”
“The girl is a Beyonder,” Drake said. “She knows all of the syllables of a word that can unmake Maldor.”
The woman regarded Rachel with new interest. “I know of this word. You have all of it?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “So did my friend Jason, another Beyonder. He has been captured by Maldor, but it doesn’t seem like he’s had a chance to use the Word.”
“He could be dead,” the charm woman said.
Tears clouded Rachel’s vision. “He could be.”
“Though I expect that he lives,” Drake inserted. “He rang the gong and was admitted to Felrook. Maldor has never been quick to dispose of a significant enemy once captured.”
“You were close to this other Beyonder?” the charm woman asked Rachel tenderly.
“We became close,” she said, trying to bridle her emotions. She had cried enough over Jason. There was no need to make a scene in front of a stranger. “I didn’t know him in the Beyond. I met him here.”
“By what power did you cross over from the Beyond?” the woman asked. “Most of the ways have long been closed.”
Rachel explained how she had followed a butterfly through a natural stone arch and how she had entered Lyrian near the cabin of a spellweaver named Erinda, on the same day the solitary woman had died. Rachel also mentioned how the Blind King suspected that Erinda had summoned her.
“Intriguing,” the woman said. “Erinda was a former apprentice of mine. I have long wondered what became of her. She always displayed a profound interest in the Beyond. You have acquired an Edomic key word. Have you any experience speaking Edomic?”
Rachel blinked. “A little.”
“The girl can call fire,” Drake specified.
“Indeed?” The woman licked her lips, her gaze becoming more intent. “Who taught you this secret?”
Rachel glanced at Drake.
“I did,” he said.
“What business does a member of the Amar Kabal have speaking Edomic?” the woman challenged.
“I’m an exile,” Drake replied. “I’ve dabbled in many pursuits uncommon among my people.”
“You know the prophecy,” the woman pressed. “When the People of the Seed grow familiar with Edomic, their downfall will have commenced.”
Drake flashed his crooked grin. “I’m no longer among my people. I prefer to conclude that I don’t count. Besides, anyone can see that our downfall has begun. We might as well go down fighting.”
“Perhaps,” the charm woman mused, stroking her chin, the liver-spotted hand incongruent against the more youthful skin of her face. “Prophecies aside, the wizardborn normally show little aptitude for Edomic.”
“I’m no spellweaver,” Drake huffed. “It doesn’t come easily. I know a few practical tricks.”
“How long did it take her to learn?”
“She saw me call heat to light a campfire one evening. She asked how I did it, and I told her. She lit a candle that same night.”
“The same night?” The charm woman gasped. “How long did it take you to light your first candle, Drake?”
“Years of practice. She clearly has an unusual aptitude.”
The woman fixed Rachel with a suspicious stare. “Where did you study Edomic before?”
“Nowhere,” Rachel replied. “Never. I know the syllables to the word that can kill Maldor. Otherwise, the first Edomic words I heard came from Drake.”
“This was how long ago?”
“A couple of weeks.”
“You can light a candle whenever you choose?”
“Pretty much.”
“Show me.” The charm woman arose, collected a long reddish candle, handed it to Rachel, and returned to her stool.
“Now?”
“At your pleasure.”
Rachel felt a mild surge of stage fright. She hadn’t done this trick under such scrutiny. The woman had made it sound like lighting a candle with Edomic should have been difficult to learn. The skeptical attitude magnified Rachel’s nervousness. She took a breath. She had done this hundreds of times. She spoke the words, focused on the wick, and a flame flickered into being.
“Remarkable,” the charm woman said. “Blow it out.” She gestured at Drake. “Take the candle to the other side of the room.”
Rachel handed him the candle, and he carried it to the opposite side of the tent.
“Light it,” the charm woman ordered.
“I’ve never tried this from so far away,” Rachel explained.
“Same idea,” the woman said. “Will heat to the wick.”
Rachel said the words, concentrating on the wick. She could feel an inexplicable resistance, like the first time she had tried to use Edomic to light a candle. Her attention began to waver, as if some distractive force were willing her eyes away from her target, but she redoubled her effort, pushing mentally, and whispered the words again. Across the room, a new flame was born.
“That was harder,” Rachel said, wiping perspiration from her forehead.
The charm woman considered Rachel curiously. “Yet you made it look relatively effortless.” The woman looked at Drake. “What are the chances of Rachel remaining with me as an apprentice?”
“You would have to ask her,” he replied with a slight frown.
“Well?” the woman asked.
Rachel felt flustered and flattered. Did this mean she showed serious promise with Edomic? It would be amazing to learn more, but the timing seemed off. “I don’t think I can. We need to figure out how to rescue Jason, and I need to get in front of Maldor, so I can use the Word. Plus, I need to find a way home.”
“I can offer you as safe a sanctuary as you are likely to find in Lyrian,” the woman replied. “Study with me for a year, and you will become much more formidable. You learned to call fire with abnormal ease. For most, those words you uttered would convey meaning only. Heat would hear but not respond. If you can continue as you commenced, you could exceed the abilities of any practitioner remaining in Lyrian.”
“This is a high compliment,” the seedman admitted. “The charm woman would not make this invitation lightly. Nor offer such encouragement.”
Rachel pressed her lips together. “Wait a minute. Is this why you really brought me here? To see if she thought I could become a wizard?”
Drake shrugged innocently. “I was interested in her opinion regarding your aptitude. And we needed to lose the lurker. Both needs aligned.”
“Only one person in Lyrian could help you become a true wizard,” the charm woman said, “but Maldor does not take apprentices. He crushes any who aspire to learn Edomic. Our best lore on the subject has been lost. Only scant fragments of what we once knew are preserved by stragglers like myself. Still, there is much I could teach you.”
“What do you think?” Rachel asked Drake.
“You are in a difficult situation,” the seedman replied. “Maldor wants to apprehend you more than any rebel in recent memory. The torivor proves that. You hope to return to the Beyond, but we have no idea how. You wish to rescue Jason, but we currently lack any realistic chance of accomplishing that as well. Alternatively, if you could arm yourself with greater power … who knows what options the future might hold?”
Rachel bowed her head. To agree to study with the charm woman would mean admitting some uncomfortable things. It meant that Jason would be in Felrook for a long time. It meant that she would remain in Lyrian for a long time. In fact, an apprenticeship like they were discussing might be the first step toward admitting she would remain in Lyrian for the rest of her life.
But wasn’t that just accepting the reality of her situation? Jason had been captured. He might be dead. Nobody knew of a way back to the Beyond. The emperor was out of reach. Whether or not Rachel studied Edomic, she was in serious trouble. Her options were limited. If this woman could provide a safe haven while empowering her to have a better chance of surviving on her own, shouldn’t she seize the opportunity?
Besides, wasn’t she curious to learn what else she might be able to do using Edomic? If lighting a candle brought an exultant thrill, how would it feel when she mastered more ambitious abilities? Didn’t she crave the rush that came when a few words supported by her will set the forces of nature in motion?
Rachel wrung her hands. Did she want to study Edomic? Absolutely. Maybe too much. Maybe so much that all the other reasons she had in mind were really just excuses.
“Would you stay with me?” Rachel asked Drake.
“If the charm woman would allow it,” he replied.
The woman laughed. “You have changed, Drake. You are completely committed to the welfare of this girl?”
“My seed went bad,” he said evenly, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is my final lifetime. I have wasted many. I can think of no finer way to spend it than helping Rachel destroy Maldor. She and the word she possesses represent the best chance we have.”
“In that case, I invite you to remain with us throughout her apprenticeship.” The charm woman studied Rachel. “There are limits to what I can teach you. Most of my skill is with charms. Such spells require time and patience to weave, along with certain specific Edomic aptitudes that I have not found in another. For all we know, your chief aptitude could involve summoning heat. Only time will tell how far you can take that ability and what else you can learn. But I can certainly teach you some new phrases, help you hone your talents, and advise you about the dangers of Edomic.”
The woman snorted. “The danger mounts as your ability grows. In short, it is simplest and safest to use Edomic to accomplish tasks you could perform without Edomic. Lighting the candle is a good example. Given the right materials, you could ignite a candle on your own with little difficulty. Edomic is simply more convenient. If you fail to summon a candle flame with Edomic, the modest amount of energy involved tends to dissipate harmlessly.
“However, if you were trying to summon enough fire to consume a haystack all at once, considerably more energy would be in play. If you lost control of that much energy, unintended targets could ignite, including yourself. Also, should an ambitious command go awry, the failed effort could damage your mind, perhaps even permanently crippling your consciousness. There can be numerous unhappy consequences when a significant amount of power is involved.”
“Which is why I keep my commands simple,” Drake muttered.
“A prudent policy,” the woman agreed.
“It was harder to light the candle when it was across the room,” Rachel noted. “I had to say the words twice.”
“Many factors, including distance, can complicate an Edomic command. Repeating the Edomic words seldom achieves the desired benefit, except perhaps by serving as a crutch to help your mind urge the heat to carry out your command. Once you have spoken, exert your will to demand compliance.”
“It’s weird to think of arguing with heat,” Rachel said.
“Not arguing like you would with Drake,” the charm woman clarified. “The heat has no intellect comparable to you or me, but it does comprehend Edomic. Ages ago, this world was created by the great master of this language. Edomic is equally understood by matter, energy, and intelligence. Even so, as you have begun to discover, it is one thing for the heat to comprehend your intent and another for it to obey.”
Rachel scrunched her brow. “I sort of have to push with my mind to get the candle to light. It’s hard to explain.”
“Very hard to explain,” the woman echoed. “In the past, scholars have sought to master Edomic as a form of communication. This is what many would call the lower use of Edomic. The higher use of Edomic is to speak with sufficient authority that matter and energy comply. Some, especially the uninformed, call it magic. Call it what you like. While scholars communicated, wizards commanded.”
“What’s the difference?” Rachel asked. “What made the wizards special?”
The woman shrugged. “None have found a satisfactory answer. Certainly not a teachable one. It has much to do with the will of the speaker. It also has something to do with faith, intelligence, experience, passion, courage, imagination, determination, and many other attributes. Commanding with Edomic also seems to rely on an innate, prerequisite gift that only a few possess. With effort, most could learn to speak at least some Edomic. But no amount of study can elevate a person from speaking to commanding. While training can increase the gift to command with Edomic, apparently nothing can create the raw ability.”
“And I have it,” Rachel said softly.
“You certainly do,” the woman affirmed. “Do you intend to learn more? Will you tarry with me for a season to explore your potential?”
“Yes,” Rachel said. “I’ll do my best.” She glanced at Drake, who gave a nod of approval.
“Very well,” the charm woman said, clearly pleased. “Our first order of business must be to divert the torivor. In order for you to remain with me, we will have to part ways.”
“The charms that protect me from torivors and other servants of the emperor work mostly on principles of avoidance and misdirection. They won’t long protect me or anyone else against intense scrutiny. For all of our sakes, we must mislead the torivor.”
“How will that work?” Rachel wondered.
The charm woman winked. “Watch and learn.”