Second Soul (The Dreamon War Saga Book 1), page 25
“No?” Wren said, confused.
“Ah, okay. When I win it, I shall give it a name.” Lomen grinned.
“Hmph,” Wren grunted. “On three?”
Callum nodded, lowering himself down into a ready position. The first jump was easy, but it was hard to see how big the gaps were further on. But if Wren could do it, so could he.
“One. Two. Three!”
Callum surged forward and jumped to the next roof, keeping pace with Wren. Running a mile was more about pace than it was speed, conserving energy early in order to pile on speed later.
Lomen pulled ahead on the next jump, his hilo glowing softly in the morning light. Wren angled off a bit as they had to go around a table that was set up on one of the roofs. Callum jumped again, landing awkwardly on some loose stone, but kept his balance and pushed himself onward.
Lomen widened his lead further on the next jump. Callum wasn’t sure if he could keep that pace up, but he wasn’t human. Callum glanced at Wren, and their eyes met for a split second before he turned his attention back to the next jump.
He heard Wren stumble a bit, then curse through ragged breathing as she fell a half-step behind. Callum dug deep, pushing himself harder, catching up to pull even with Lomen. Less than five rooftops left.
Wren grunted and drew even with him, arms and legs pumping hard, shirt billowing in the wind. Callum smiled, feeling the wind flow through his long hair, making him feel like he was flying. He jumped, ran, and jumped again. Lomen jumped further though, stretching his lead to a full step.
Callum made the last jump at the same time as Wren, each landing smoothly, their legs moving in rhythm. He smiled over at Wren knowing Lomen was going to beat them both. She smiled back, clearly enjoying herself as well.
Lomen skidded to a stop, slapping the bricks of the chimney a moment before he and Wren did. Callum laughed between gasps as he began walking around the rooftop with his hands on his head. Wren was doing a cool-down walk too, her laughter mixing with his. Lomen joined in, though he wasn’t breathing nearly as hard as they were.
“Not… fair,” Callum said between laughter and gasps.
“You were aware of my physical advantages before the race, Callum’hoa,” Lomen said, smiling widely, his white teeth gleaming in the light. Each one was sharp, almost as sharp as his own eyeteeth.
“He’s right,” Wren said, eyes watering slightly, sweat glistening on her hairline. “Spoils.” She held the antler knife out to Lomen, who took it with a slight nod.
“My thanks, Miss Wren.” Lomen inspected the knife, twisting it in the light. There were faint red stains over the yellowed grain. “Maska,” he said after a moment.
“What does it mean?” Callum asked, taking a drink of water.
“I suppose the closest phrase would be ‘silently strong.’” Lomen slid the dagger into his own boot.
“Beautiful,” Wren said softly. “Well, you both did better than I expected.” She looked at Callum, almost sounding impressed.
“You both did well for humans,” Lomen said. “Though if I had more mana, it would not have been a contest.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it, Lo.” She tapped his back lightly. “Now, let's meet back on Gwent’s roof for your next test.” She took off, back the way they’d raced, without looking to see if they were following.
“I’m starting to like her,” Lomen said. “Perhaps the Elders were wrong about you Delrythi. No doubt you are much like my own people; some are good, and some aren’t.”
“Yeah? I suppose that’s probably true of all people. But I agree, she isn’t as bad as I thought at first.” Callum looked towards the Crown Steppe and the palace, wondering how he’d found his way here and what currents he’d find himself in after they made it to the underground cavern.
“Shall we?” Lomen took off after Wren. Callum watched him for a moment and then followed.
“Took your time, huh?” Wren said as they returned to Gwent’s roof. “I want to see how you handle that thing.” She pointed to Shadowgleam.
“You want to spar? With your daggers?” Callum worried about showing her his sword and revealing its uniqueness, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer anyway.
“I’m sure you have some sort of practice routine. Show me that.” She sat down on the ledge next to Lomen, looking up at him expectantly.
“Sure.” Taking a deep breath, he turned away and unsheathed the weapon. He gave it a moment to shift before facing Wren again.
“Fancy sword,” Wren said, peering closely at it. “You coppered up, Cal?” He’d never heard the expression before and looked at Lomen, who shrugged. “Rich. Are you rich?”
“Oh. No, I'm definitely not rich.” He laughed nervously. “I sort of found this and sort of made it. It’s a long story. Do you want to see me use it or not?”
“Go on.”
Callum held it in his right hand and drew in a breath, slowly centering himself, sliding his left foot back and angling it away from his body. He worked his way through the first few poses, emphasizing the parries and thrusts as Lydia had shown him. Slowly at first and then quicker and quicker, repeating each sequence of moves as he rotated around his center. Shadowgleam was a blur as he manipulated the sword, letting it become an extension of himself. Callum gave her a final flourish and then sheathed it again.
“Well, you can slice air pretty good, I’ll give you that,” Wren said sarcastically, making Lomen snort a laugh. “But you clearly know how to handle a sword, so that’s good.”
“Want to see me do it left-handed?” he asked with a smile.
“Nah, that’s okay. Let’s see what Lomen’s got.”
A part of him was disappointed that she didn’t want to see his skills. He had worked hard to get as good with his left hand as he was with his right, remembering every lesson Lydia had taught him. The other part of him was uncomfortable with how much he wanted to impress this woman.
“Combat is rare in Joruska. We reserve violence for self-defense and for protection of life,” Lomen said, standing up and pulling his wooden dagger from behind his back. “But I suppose we are not in Joruska, are we?”
Lomen began to move in fluid, arcing motions, twirling the dagger in his hand after each one. He wove the dagger through the air as he spun and crouched and sprung into the air. For several long minutes, Lomen was a blur of motion, keeping his dagger constantly moving, even dropping it from one hand to catch it with the other. He moved low and high, stabbing out in all directions before suddenly stopping and sheathing it back behind him.
“Whoa,” Callum said softly. “That was amazing!”
“Impressive, Lo! Though it looked more like a dance than a fight.”
“Most of our fighting is done underwater,” Lomen said softly, touching the side of his neck. “So, we are taught multiple spatial fighting techniques.”
“Fair enough,” Wren said, clapping her hands together. “Guess it’s only fair that I show you what I can do?
“Yes, please, Miss Wren.” Lomen sat down on the ledge next to Callum, blinking both sets of eyelids.
“Let’s see it,” Callum said, leaning forward.
Wren whipped both daggers out and started weaving them through the air in a complex dance. Thought it was more frenetic than Lomen’. She stepped forward, staying low, slashing out each dagger in new directions. The black knives flashed in the sunlight, glinting with each thrust. She then threw a dagger straight up into the air, turned in place, and caught it by the handle again. Callum wasn’t sure there was a practical reason for the move, but he had to admit, it did look pretty great. She sheathed them both and took a mock bow.
“For your consideration, m’lords.”
“Well done, well done,” Callum said, making small clapping motions. “We are duly impressed.”
“Indeed, Miss Wren, a very good performance. The wind has had an adequate number of holes poked into it,” Lomen said with faux seriousness.
The absurdity of the situation struck him, and Callum started chuckling to himself. They were basically still children, playing on a rooftop, waving weapons around, hoping to impress one another. Wren wasn’t some Shield, testing new recruits. She was a young woman caught up in something so much larger than her, just as he was. He laughed louder, the stress and anxiety melting away. Lomen looked over at him and then joined in, his voice booming across the rooftops. Wren stared at them both for a moment, her expression hard to read, then slowly softening until she was laughing along with them.
Hundreds of miles from home, on a rooftop with a Joruskan and a knife-wielding girl. Tasked with spying on their own government by a self-proclaimed Beggar Queen. Hunted by a secret cult and harboring a strange wild magic. It was overwhelming and ridiculous.
But it felt good to laugh.
Chapter twenty-six
Wren joined them for lunch, eating quickly while occasionally glancing at the windows. There was a poise to her that confused Callum. It seemed incongruous to her life on the street. He had to remind himself a few times that this was the city, and people were very different up here. That and she was the first girl his age he’d ever interacted with.
“You need new clothes,” she said after her last bite. “Both of you.”
Callum looked down, taking in his trousers and shirt. They were, he could admit, looking rough from the constant traveling. He’d washed them as often as he was able, even taking the time to repair the larger holes. When he’d left home, he’d only been able to bring one other set of clothes with him, and they weren’t in much better condition. His cloak had gotten pretty frayed too. Lomen’s outfit was a little better, but it was more suited for southern Delrythi, where it was warmer. It also didn’t block his hilo enough, though Callum wasn’t sure how to tell Lomen that.
“We’re just going to be sneaking into a dark tunnel,” Lomen said, looking at his own clothes.
“I think you missed parts of the plan, Lo,” Wren said. “I know you weren’t feeling that great last night, but there is more to it than that.”
“My apologies, friend Wren,” Lomen said. “I am feeling better today though.”
“I see that,” Wren said. “Well, to get to those tunnels, we’ll need to get through both the Merchant and Crown Steppes. And even though we’ll be taking a route through the Dagger Pits, there may be several merchants or nobles there. So, we’re going to need to blend in. And if we do get caught, at least we won’t look out of place right away.” Wren popped up from her seat and started to pace around the room.
“We’re obviously not familiar enough with the fashion trends, so we’ll need to follow your lead, Wren.” Callum was strangely excited at the idea of going shopping for new clothes. He’d never picked anything out for himself before.
“We’ll have to go to the Merchant Steppe.” Wren was looking out the window, her gaze darting back and forth. “They won't be selling what we need down here.” She sighed, turning back towards them. “Lomen, I think you’ll need to stay here.”
“Why?” Callum asked as Lomen opened his mouth to do the same.
“Cal, we’re not just picking up clothes. They’ll be taking measurements, very close measurements. Lomen is going to stand out like a copper in coal! It’s nothing against you at all, Lo.”
“I fully understand. I could use the opportunity to rest and recover more of my mana.”
“I still don’t know what that means, but good.” She said.
“Then how are we going to get clothes for him?” Callum asked.
“You two are about the same size, Cal. You’re an inch or two taller, but that won't matter too much. We’ll use your measurements.” Wren crossed the room quickly, moving to the door. “Let’s go. We’re running out of time.”
“Fine. Can you give us a moment though? I can meet you outside.”
“Sure.” Wren disappeared through the door, pulling it closed behind her.
“Callum’hoa, it is fine. She’s right, and you know it.”
“I know. I just don't like the idea of leaving you alone in a strange city.” Callum tried not to look too worried. He knew Lomen could fend for himself, but it was still upsetting.
“Perhaps you could do me a favor?” Lomen asked.
“Of course!”
“I noticed that the room across the hall has a bathtub. Would you be able to do what you did for me last night, but over there?”
“I can try.” Callum grabbed Lomen’s hand, pulling him into a quick half-hug. “I’ll tell Gwent he’s not to bother you.”
“My thanks!” Lomen smiled, blinking slowly through both of his eyelids.
They walked together to the bathroom across from their borrowed bedroom. It was clean and orderly, like the kitchen below had been. Gwent ran a tidy operation here. Callum had always thought of the city as grimy and dirty, full of vermin. Some parts were, no doubt, but Gwent’s place was a lot like his old home. Everything in its place, and a place for everything.
The tub was a dark brown wood, large enough for someone to lie in it comfortably. It was smooth to the touch, with a large unit underneath that housed a fire to warm the water. He had heard that many homes in Aurumount had dedicated waterspouts, each being fed from the large aquifer under the mountain, but had never seen one at work. He was tempted to try it, but Wren was waiting for him. He was starting to come around to trusting her, but he didn't want her to see him use his unbonded magic.
Callum leaned into the tub, placing his hand flat on the bottom and closing his eyes. He focused on the same emotion as he had before, his worry for Lomen, though this time he layered in feelings of camaraderie and trust. He felt an empty well form in his mind, which filled quickly with the emotions he had chosen. The lake where he had first encountered Lomen swam into his mind’s eye. He anchored his intention to it and breathed in deeply.
“Water.” He sighed out the word in ancient Alvarian. Warm power flooded through him, familiar and foreign at the same time. He felt more in control of it, able to focus on the world around him instead of being lost in the current of power. His senses were expanding, being pushed to their limits. Sounds grew louder and crisper, he could hear Lomen breathing next to him, a dull thud coming from his heartbeat. Colors exploded into brilliance around him, deepening and becoming fuller. Water formed under his hand, filling the tub rapidly. For a moment, he thought he could see a flow of silver tendrils weaving around and through the room, passing through the wall and into the world beyond, similar to the lattice found in the magic of the Second Souls, but less organized. He tried to focus on it but it blinked away.
“There you go,” Callum said, breathing hard as he pushed himself back up to his feet. The world around him slowly faded back to normal, the warmth disappearing from his mind and body. The power carved a hollowness inside of him, leaving him empty and exhausted again.
“That was incredible!” Lomen was staring at him, his large eyes wide, a smile on his face. “It was as if you were touching the mana of Alvar.”
“Really?” The world had dulled around him, making it hard to focus on Lomen’s words.
“It wasn’t quite the same, still closer to how the Second Souls use magic, but it was… purer? I don’t know how to explain it.”
“We’ll have to study this.” Callum looked down at his hand. “It’s all connected. Somehow.”
“We will.” Lomen put a hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes. Callum missed Lydia every day, but Lomen had found a way to fill the void she’d left behind, not fully, but it was good to have someone to trust.
“Enjoy your bath!” Callum forced out a laugh, trying to find the emotion in him to match.
He felt a little better about leaving Lomen behind knowing he was going to be resting and recovering. Callum took a moment to untie Lydia’s sword from his pack, placing it under the mattress, out of sight of any prying eyes. He trusted Lomen, but he couldn’t be sure about Gwent. He slung his pack over his shoulder and left quickly.
Wren was waiting for him just outside of the front door, flipping a dagger up and catching it. She looked dangerous standing there, which he assumed was the point. She nodded to him and took off down the street, expecting him to follow.
They walked through the Workers Steppe in silence, passing tired-looking workers who were starting their day shifts and even more exhausted-looking workers who had just finished their night shifts. Children ran through the streets, chasing one another around and through the crowds. Occasionally a shadow passed over them, alerting them to a rooftop runner carrying messages to other parts of the Steppe.
“A few hundred feet that way,” Wren said pointing to the left as they started ascending the stairs to the Merchant Steppe, “there is a smugglers' climb. I use it sometimes to avoid the goldchests or other unwanted attention. It’s a workout, but I wanted you to know about it just in case.”
“Thanks.” The wall was nearly three hundred feet tall. Work out was an understatement. Not to mention the risk. Callum reassessed his opinion of her again. If she could climb that, she must be pretty brave.
Callum recognized a few vendors from his first walk through the Merchant Steppe, but there were far more of them at this time of day, all yelling to the crowd about their various wares and deals. He saw swords for sale as well as books and maps. It was hard to resist the temptation to stop and look, but Wren kept moving, working her way through the crowd. He heard a few people grumble under their breath about his clothes, one even commenting on his smell. Maybe he should have taken the time to bathe.
“We’re almost there,” Wren said over her shoulder. “Max isn’t the most popular tailor, but he asks the fewest questions. I think our best move is to pretend you’re a Second Soul squire who lost their belongings in an accident, and you need a couple new suits to join Langley’s retinue to Shatterpoint.”
“What if he asks to see my Shatterstone?” Callum asked, remembering how Lydia’s had cracked in his hand, absorbing the power within it.
