They were moving slowly, tracking northwesterly, climbing all the time. It was nearing dawn and the landscape was unfolding before them once again in a thin, misty light as day began to waken.
“Not bad progress at all,” Jewd said, when they took a short rest. “Slow but steady. How are all your aches?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Kilt replied firmly. “I’ll take the bermine regularly and grit my teeth and ignore what it doesn’t cover.”
“My hero!” Jewd commented, feigning a swoon.
Leo chuckled.
Kilt glared at them. “Well, this is a jolly adventure for you both,” he sneered.
“All right, Kilt, you want us to be serious,” Leo surprised him by saying. “Tell us this. What interest did Stracker, or Vulpan, for that matter, have in a clergyman?”
Kilt swung around to stare at Leo. “What do you mean?” he replied, searching his mind for an excuse, absently checking the shields he was so practiced at erecting in the king’s presence.
Leo shrugged. “Well, it strikes me as odd that they would have any interest in you at all. Why were they going to all that trouble to escort you alone with three guards, and Vulpan and Stracker in attendance? They were taking you north. Why?”
“How should I know?” Kilt said, knowing he replied a moment too soon. Even he could hear how it smacked of things left unsaid. He sensed rather than watched Jewd’s eyes narrow, his expression turning from amusement to a soft frown. He refused to look at his big friend, for Jewd would know immediately that he was telling a lie. “I was given no reason,” he added.
Leo nodded but didn’t seem convinced. “It just seemed odd, that’s all.”
“What happened with Vulpan, anyway?” Jewd asked.
“He incarcerated me. What did you think he did?”
Jewd shrugged too. “Oh, I don’t know, I thought he might have tasted your blood.”
“He did,” Kilt replied, realizing too late—in the space of a blink of an eye—that he had made the most terrible admission. Two errors in a row after years and years of being cleverly secretive.
He watched Jewd carefully but his big friend simply nodded. “And then what?”
Kilt forced himself to speak calmly and in an offhand way. “Oh, you know, typical questions. Why was I interested in Mrs. Kirin Felt, essentially; I found myself spinning the usual lies.” He frowned, showing his irritation. “This feels like an interrogation.”
Jewd grinned but Kilt could see the gesture carried no sincerity. They both knew each other too well…and each knew the other was lying right now. Jewd looked at the king. “Leo, run ahead, will you, and let me know what’s ahead of us beyond this hill. I suspect we should be able to get a clear view of where we need to head and plot our path before sundown. Another night sleeping rough, I’m afraid.”
Leo gave a soft snort of disgust. “That comment suggests that we sleep like royals back at the camp!” He winked at Jewd and was gone, oblivious to the manipulation.
Jewd returned his attention to Kilt, who regarded him steadily, anticipating the confrontation.
“We’ve been together too long to fool each other, Kilt.”
“I don’t know what you’re digging for.”
“Yes you do. I’m big, old friend, not thick. I told you a long time ago not to make that mistaken assumption.”
“Jewd—”
“The truth, now, or I walk away from this.”
“What?” Kilt felt shock like the water down his back.
“You heard me. You nearly died back there. We all could have died, especially the lad.”
“Jeopardizing Leo’s life was your fault, your decision! I told you to stay behind. You didn’t—”
“We did. No one else was going to save your arrogant arse. What did you think? You could just walk into the viper’s nest and come out unbitten?”
“I just wanted information.”
“Fair enough. But I don’t understand your needing to go alone. I don’t understand their interest in you. And I certainly don’t understand your reluctance to tell the truth…to me, of all people. Tell me the truth or I will walk away from you and from this strange life we’ve built alongside one another.”
Kilt stared at Jewd, feeling as though he didn’t recognize his closest friend. “I…”
“Remember…big, not stupid,” Jewd warned. “And hurry, before Leo returns. He has no idea that you’ve been lying to us, although he too is smarter than you give him credit for. He knows something isn’t adding up but he trusts you. I thought I did, too.”
“And now you don’t?”
“I don’t like lies between us. They compromise us. They lead to danger…like today. Let me make this easier for you. Let me tell you what I know…Vulpan is interested in one sort of person only. A Vested. That’s what he’s doing right now—compiling a list of Vested. He tasted Kirin Felt—Vested. He even tasted Lily because somehow she has convinced him that she too is Vested. And now he has tasted you. Why would he taste you, Kilt?”
“I…really, I—”
Jewd stared at him, his eyes glittering with scorn. “He wouldn’t waste his time with you unless…” He shook his head, seemingly unable to speak.
Kilt took a deep breath. He knew in his heart he should have explained it all many years ago…when they were children. He couldn’t lose his close friend. “Does it really change anything, Jewd?” he asked, his voice hoarse with the emotion he wasn’t sure he had fully under control, his nagging pain momentarily forgotten.
Jewd blinked with shock. “Doesn’t it change everything?”
“Why?”
“Deceit is a poisonous ally.”
“I haven’t deceived anyone.”
“How do you arrive at that conclusion?” Jewd’s expression had turned to barely disguised scorn.
“Because it’s never been used.”
“Until now.”
Kilt swallowed. “Yes, until yesterday.”
Jewd swung and punched the tree. His knuckles bloomed blood.
“Ah, Jewd. Don’t, please,” Kilt said softly, genuine remorse in his voice. “If I could go back or change this, I would.”
“Me, Kilt. It’s me you’ve lied to.”
Kilt looked down. “I’ve been lying to myself, to tell the truth. I thought if I ignored it, if I refused to answer its call, I could beat it. And I did…I have. All these years I have never once fallen prey to its seductions. Not once, Jewd. I’ve been strong and utterly in control of it.”
“Am I supposed to be proud?”
“No, not proud. Understanding, perhaps. I do not want this. I never asked for it. It has been a permanent curse on my life, but I’ve beaten it day after day. You can’t know what willpower it takes to resist its call. Why do you think I went to the Academy? I thought there I could understand this thing inside me. But that only made it worse.”
Jewd took a breath. “What exactly is it that you can do?”
Kilt’s face twisted into disgust. He looked away, then up into the trees, considering his answer. Kilt could see Leo, who had arrived at the summit of the hill they were ascending. He was scanning ahead and soon would be back. This conversation needed to be behind them by the time Leo returned, for Kilt had no intention of sharing his secret with the king. He sighed. “I have an odd ability to elicit information out of people, that’s all.”
Jewd regarded him suspiciously. “Against their will. Is that what you’re saying?”
Kilt nodded. “I can’t make it last for long. You see, nothing so special.”
“I’d give my left nipple for such a skill, Kilt!”
“No, you wouldn’t, Jewd. That’s the point. There’s a price.”
“Such as?”
“Well, I get nosebleeds every time I use the magic.”
“I’ve never seen you with a nosebleed.”
“And now you have the answer to your next question.”
Jewd looked suspicious. “So now you read minds?”
“No, I think it’s obvious you want to ask me if I’ve ever used my ability against you. And as you’ve never seen me with a nosebleed, not only do you have the answer you want, but you can reassure yourself that I’m telling the truth when I say that I have not made use of the magic through our life together. The last time—before yesterday—was when I was barely a stripling youth.”
Jewd’s expression turned to one of awakening. “Nosebleeds, of course! It comes back to me now.”
“Yes, well, you only saw me with them once or twice as a child, I recall.”
They both glanced up and saw Leo making tracks back toward them.
“So you bled and Vulpan saw it, I take it,” Jewd said.
“Yes, damn it. It was the blood that attracted him to me. Once he tasted it, I had to admit my skills and naturally he refused to let me leave. I was being taken to join all the other Vested, presumably.”
“Aren’t Vested supposed to be marked somehow?” Jewd queried.
“No, you’re thinking of the legend of an aegis,” Kilt said dismissively. “That’s entirely different.”
“I missed the nosebleed sign, though, didn’t I?”
“I never gave you any,” Kilt replied, his tone regretful. “I’m sorry, Jewd. You’re the last person I’d ever want to—”
His friend waved a hand. “You’ve told me now. I’m shocked. I’d be lying if I said anything different but I must accept it. I can see you don’t relish its company.”
“I hate it! I’ve been running from it all my life.”
“There’s nothing else?”
Kilt shook his head, despising the lie.
“Well, we don’t have any need to discuss it again,” Jewd said as Leo skidded down the final few paces.
“You two look very serious,” the king observed.
“Kilt’s pain is intensifying,” Jewd answered. “What did you see?”
“The landscape is still, no riders anywhere on the roads or paths below. We need to swing more west now and I’ve found a good track that should make the going easier for you, Kilt. We’ll be back in familiar territory by nightfall if we make good time today.”
Kilt felt relief. “I’m going to need a spectacular disguise.”
“What for?” both of his companions asked at the same moment.
“For when I go to Brighthelm and get Lily,” he replied, surprised they needed to ask.
Roddy was exhausted from trailing the pair. He knew their names now. Petor was not Petor at all but a youth called Piven. And his companion was an older man he called Greven. They were not happy travelers, he noticed. The man was mostly silent. Piven did all the talking whenever there was any talking.
Roddy was good at tracking. Being an only child, he’d taught himself how to play alone and play quietly. The forest had become his playground and its animals his playmates. He had learned how to creep up on even the most timid squirrel and be able to watch it from a close distance without it suspecting. Following Piven was easy, although Roddy could feel the magic bristling around the youth who had saved his life. He still couldn’t understand why the compulsion to follow Piven was irresistible, stronger even than his anxiety for his mother and how bereft she would be without him. But he couldn’t not follow the stranger.
Both Roddy and his mother had always known that Roddy was different to other children. The palsy in his hand had always fascinated his peers, while his mother’s neighbors simply used to sigh, squeeze his cheeks and make exclamations like poor little mite, or perhaps he’ll grow out of it.
Roddy knew he wouldn’t grow out of it. Instinctively he seemed to know and accept that it was his burden in life, and while it didn’t seem to stop him from leading a perfectly happy childhood, it did single him out. There was no pain, no discomfort at all; just a helpless tremor that was at times worse than others and that was completely out of his control.
When Petor had brought him back from the dead it had become worse. Whereas, before, his palsy hadn’t always been immediately noticeable, now even Roddy was aware of the constant trembling. There was suddenly no stopping it. The touch of Piven’s magic had awakened it.
Roddy tasted salt on his lips and was dragged back to the present. He had never seen the sea before. Though he had heard plenty about it, to be here looking at its vastness, its changing colors and its soothing monotony of constant movement, filled him with wonder. It felt dangerous but exhilarating and if he had not seen death just now, he might have been able to indulge his awe. But he felt the tug of fear as he looked again at the spot where an ancient looking man called Sergius had been flung from the top of a cliff.
Once again Piven had shocked him, ordering the death with such casual brutality. And what was more shocking was that once again the man called Greven had obeyed. Greven looked reluctant but he had still done as Piven demanded. Roddy considered this. He felt a strange kinship with Greven and a helpless fascination for Piven. He had to continue following them. In fact, he didn’t believe he could resist the call of Piven’s presence.
Dawn had broken, and beautiful she was, too, spreading across the sea as well as the fields inland. Roddy knew he would need to make a start if he was to catch up with Piven. He wasn’t worried, given his strong sense of direction and ability to track, but he didn’t want them to get so far in front that he lost their trail. Already they had several hours on him. But he had felt frozen to this spot, churning over in his mind what he’d witnessed and what he’d heard.
He moved at last, stretching from his crouched position in the hedgerow. He needed to eat something. He had deduced that Sergius lived nearby. Perhaps he should search for a hut. He didn’t want to see the man’s smashed body on the beach but he was helplessly drawn to the cliff’s edge. He peeked over, feeling a keen stab of sorrow to see Sergius crumpled into a tight position—as though he’d died in agony—at the cliff’s floor. As he stared sadly at the man he didn’t know and yet could grieve for, Roddy felt a stirring of magic that was powerful enough to make him suck in his breath. It touched him deep to the core and it was from within that he responded.
“Where are you?” he yelled, his breath now coming in shallow gasps.
“Here,” said a beautiful voice and the body of a woman whose torso ended in serpent coils reared up before him. She seemed to hang in the air and he dared not look down or wonder whether those coils went all the way to the beach from his high spot. “I am Cyrena.” She was translucent, as though there but not fully formed. “Only you can see me, Roddy, if that’s what you’re scared of.” She laughed and it sounded like glass tinkling. “Only you and Ravan, that is.”
“Ravan?” Roddy swung around to see that the large raven had settled nearby, watching him. “Hello,” Roddy said tentatively, willing himself not to be frightened.
Who are you? the bird asked, the words blossoming in his mind. Roddy fell back, terrified and amazed at once. Are you the person who has been watching us? The raven continued. I’ve been aware of you on the rim of my mind but so much has occurred that I haven’t been able to concentrate fully on what has been nagging me. Have you followed us here?
Roddy nodded, too shocked to say anything.
From where exactly?
“Green Herbery,” the boy murmured. “I’m following Piven.”
Why?
“I can’t help it. I am touched by his magic. I have my own, too.”
Ravan blinked slowly. You are Vested?
Roddy nodded. “I’ve heard that name before. My mother whispered it with fear, although she never liked me talking about my ability, especially now. She said they would take me away.”
They would.
“Then I am right to have kept the secret. But then Piven made me well again using his magic and…” He shrugged. “I thought he might have some answers for me. He seemed kind.” He glanced at the serpent woman nervously.
You saw him order Greven to kill a man.
Roddy nodded. “That old man. And again not so long ago—a man called Clovis.”
You shouldn’t have followed Piven.
“I couldn’t help it. I had to. I didn’t feel as though I had a choice. It was my magic’s decision, not mine,” Roddy bleated. “Was the old man your friend?”
Why do you ask that?
“You seemed…” Roddy tried to find the right way to describe what he had felt. “To belong together.”
We did, in a way. Yes, he was my friend. My oldest friend.
“I’m sorry for you.” Roddy turned to face the enormous serpent-woman. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t possibly be frightened of her, despite her size and those twisted coils. “Are you my friend, Cyrena?”
She laughed softly. “I do hope you are mine, Roddy. I chose you.”
His fear was lessening by the moment. “Chosen for what?”
“You are on your journey now, Roddy. You took the first steps yourself and now I am going to tell you more. Ask your questions. You do not need Piven to answer them.”
He stared at her, his mind racing to understand. He would have to be smart in how he phrased his questions. “Why am I following Piven?”
“You are right that you are connected to his magic, which has touched yours.”
“My mother has always believed I was touched by the fairies but I think she used that to explain away my tremor.”
“She is right in a way. You have a vast well of magic available to you, Roddy. Magic I have given you. Consider how you track, think about how silently you can move and the extraordinary wealth of information you can take in at a single glance.”
“Is that magical?”
She smiled kindly. “I can assure you, no ordinary person can move as you do or follow a trail so accurately. And certainly no ordinary person has a perfect memory of everything he sees at any time. You do. These are the skills Vested in you by magic. But the rest of the magic you possess is yet untapped.”
“Why me?”
“You were the right soul.”
“What am I to do with this?”
“That’s the important question, Roddy. While the magic is part of you and comes from you, it does not belong to you.”
“It belongs to you?”
“No, there is another.”
Roddy’s face lit up. “Piven!”
“No, Roddy. Piven is no friend to you. He is no longer the person he was.”
“But he saved—”
“I am aware that he saved your life. But that was a personal crusade. He has been fighting demons that take the form of his inclinations. Piven’s magic is dark, Roddy. It is an angry, bitter magic, as you have witnessed for yourself.”
“So who owns my magic?”
Cyrena smiled. “You will know in your heart when you meet. But you must find this one, Roddy. That is what you must do for me. It doesn’t normally work like this but Piven’s rage has changed everything. Ravan will help you.” Roddy glanced at the great black bird. “Trust him,” she assured. “He is your friend.”
“Who is he?”
Cyrena’s coils twisted and her specter shimmered above the cliff. “He is a guide. Ravan is on a special journey of discovery for himself now. A great magic is about to occur and changes will result, especially for Ravan. Truths will be unlocked for him.”
“Will I see you again?”
“I’m not sure, child. The death of Sergius summoned me; I was able to use his moment of death to enter this plane long enough to speak with you. Unless another Valisar is crowned I have little access to the magic that permits me here.” She smiled sadly. “We have not known times like these before. I shall rely on brave souls like yourself to make the right decisions to aid the land of Cormoron the Great. You will make me proud, Roddy.
“Remember, a magic has been unleashed. Sergius asked it of me, and his death has created a rift in the world that has allowed me to make it possible. I can tell you and Ravan only this. Go to the mountains. Ravan.” She turned to regard the bird who had not moved, made no sound during the conversation. “Trust your instincts. Do not be afraid. Trouble is ahead but the Valisars are stronger than their enemies credit them. Make haste to Lo’s Teeth and the Davarigon people. The storm comes.”
Cyrena began to fade.
“Wait!” Roddy begged.
“Farewell, child. The magic has begun,” she managed to say before her light and colors diminished until Roddy found himself blinking, realizing the apparition was no longer there.
Roddy turned to the raven that regarded him. The air around them seemed to sigh and then swell. Roddy felt pressure at his temples and his ears began to throb. He put his hands to them as a great rushing sound overwhelmed him.
He closed his eyes as Ravan began to shriek.