Awakened, page 32
His stomach churned with sickness.
A flash in his side vision brought him back to himself. He turned to see a dome of Light, very faint, yet distinguishable, moving outwards from himself. As soon as the Light hit Janis and the duo of black-robed people, they were all thrown backwards. Gasping, the present Marric reached out his hand as if he could stop it. Nothing happened, of course, and Janis slammed into a tree. The dome expanded, hitting everyone and everything, knocking them back, swaying the trees.
He was dying. Somehow he knew that. Marric realized that he was unconscious by this point, so he’d been seeing visions and images that spared him from this whole experience. The past Marric’s body began to droop, face pale, life draining from him, while all at once another bright flash, pure white this time, pierced his eyes, causing his present self to flinch away.
Just as he opened his eyes, a second dome of blue Light pulsed and knocked everyone away again. Except . . . movement to his right drew his attention and he saw that the scar-faced man was standing, as if unaffected.
“Ah, yes,” the robed man said, “Prost cannot be affected by any Lightbearer. It is a strange anomaly, but can be quite useful. Though we are of the Light, he seems . . . of the void.”
The look on his face as he said this was disgust with a mixture of annoyance.
“But what I am more interested in, is how you didn’t die. Awakening with three powers, such as you did, often kills the person. Perhaps it was the doing of that bright white Light we just saw, from your lower person.”
A memory hit Marric’s mind, rough and quick. Instinctively, he reached down to his belt but felt nothing there.
The rabbit foot. From the old woman!
It was clear that the man was trying to force Marric to tell, but the boy played ignorant.
“I—I’m not sure. But—what do you mean three powers?”
Scowling at his response, the strange man turned back to the now frozen image of Marric lying on the ground, scar-faced man looming over him, then looked at the present Marric again. His displeasure was obvious, but he wasn’t going to press the issue.
“Seer, Conjurur, Mover. That is you. Your new identity. And it is how you will be recognized as a champion in my court.”
The words seemed even more strange and unfamiliar than any he had heard before. He hadn’t thought of his awakening as giving him a new identity, nor did he really want that to be the case. Also, he never thought that he could be considered a champion of anything, save perhaps the champion of being useless in any fight.
“But how? I don’t even know how to use them and—”
“We shall teach you, don’t you see? I have trained and helped countless new Lightbearers to harness the powers that they possessed to become great. I have seen sniveling children become strong and powerful warriors in half the time it took for their parents to teach them any responsibilities at all. You are no exception to this.”
He said this last part with a sneer and looked Marric up and down disdainfully.
“Of course, there is no forcing you. Should you feel the desire to move in a different direction and not accept my offer to train you, take you under my wing, so to speak, your other options are far less . . . liberating.”
At the last bit, he held out his hand and a flash of red Light appeared there. After the initial burst, Marric saw a dagger made of red Light, clutched in his unnaturally white hand. It was exquisite, intricate, and quite beautiful. How Marric could see such detail in something made from Light, he couldn’t tell, however, it was enthralling.
The white man made a point of lifting the knife up and brandishing it before Marric. The threat of the act was lost on the boy though, because he was locked on the beauty and majesty of the thing.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a horrible thing to learn from him. It’s clear that he knows how to use his powers well, and perhaps he’d be more open and forthcoming about my new powers than Avryn has been.
This thought caused his gut to twist and writhe. How could he possibly just abandon his friends? How could he give all that up to join a group that had just tried to kill them all, for Lanser’s sake? Marric scolded himself for even thinking that it could be a viable option.
Oh, but that beautiful dagger. Avryn’s Conjures bore no such beauty or finesse.
Without warning, the man thrust the dagger through the palm of his other hand, then twisted the red dagger. Blood gushed down his white arm and ran to the floor where it pooled, making a red puddle.
Marric’s stomach twisted and he wrapped his arms around his body, unable to move his eyes away from the macabre scene before him. The man smiled at the boy’s response, and pushed the dagger slightly further, acting as if it caused him no pain at all.
“As I mentioned, your other option is far less agreeable. In short, we will kill you. We can’t have you sharing information about us or where we are located. Once my warrior delivers you here, the choice must be made. Progress, or meet an end. Grow, or simply die. The choice is yours.”
Finally, Marric was able to tear his eyes away from the horror before him. He crouched down and put his hands on his head. Fear gripped his very being and he was unable to think of anything else.
“Oh, and Marric. Remember that all wounds can be healed. Pain is but a teaching method.”
A slowly pulsing light in his side vision caused Marric to look upwards and see that the man had removed the knife and was holding his cut-free hand over the other. The blood had stopped, and instead, the hand was knitting back together very quickly. In an instant, the cut was gone and the blood with it.
“Power comes only to those that sacrifice the things that make them weak. We will break you, Marric, but we will make you strong as a result. You approach quickly, and once you arrive, you must choose. Greatness, or death.”
The sides of Marric’s vision blurred and he got tunnel vision, the bone-white man being the only clear image for a moment. Then he shrunk, moving into the distance as if he was being sucked away. A horrid smile was all that adorned his face.
Marric knew at that moment that he couldn’t possibly choose to join such a person.
But he felt like he had no other choice.
* * *
Janis kicked the horse into action, urging it forward more quickly. She couldn’t make it run as fast as was possible, for that would make it too challenging to track their quarry. That frustrated her. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t feel so rushed, and she could track her target with a little less urgency.
This was different.
The forest seemed more damp than usual, as if she’d just missed another drizzle of rain in this part. The air was more dense and wet, but not so dense as to indicate that heavy rainfall occurred, most likely just a mist of rain. That smell mixed pleasantly with the earthen smell that often accompanied a forest, creating an aroma that most would find very pleasing and relaxing.
Janis didn’t have time to consider such pleasantries. After being knocked back by the strange light force, she had lost consciousness. Waking up had been more difficult than usual, likely because of the nature of the cause of her unconsciousness. This bothered her—she could normally wake up very quickly. By the time she had awoken, most of the others were stirring or awake already. Avryn was healing her cut arm when she came to, noticing that Marric was gone, along with a few of the black robed figures.
It was fortunate, however, that one of them had just made it to their horse and was climbing on. Janis had ripped him down to the ground and taken his horse. He looked both perplexed and bothered by her treatment of him, which made her laugh internally, considering the black-robed group had just assaulted the lot of them. This made forcing him to the ground and taking his horse that much more satisfying to her.
The sound of the horse’s racing hooves clopped on the ground, muffled by the greenery and fallen leaves. Though muffled, the silence of forest and night seemed to amplify the sound, making her feel like she was announcing her pursuit. Stealth was definitely her strong suit, but at this very moment, it would do her little good. The further ahead Marric’s captors were able to go, the less likely she’d be able to find him and bring him back to—
She cursed.
Janis just realized that she had no idea where Avryn was planning to take them. She knew that they were close, but based on his description of the place, and the fact that it hadn’t been discovered by Watchlight and all their Seers meant that she had little chance of locating it on her own.
With a huff, she pushed the thought out of her mind. This wasn’t an oversight or a mistake, the urgency required that she not take the time to discover that information. The moment she had realized that Marric was gone with Prost, she had immediately locked onto her objective: to get Marric back.
Janis strained her eyes, looking for signs of tracks, and she was able to see some. It was fortunate that the moon seemed to brighten suddenly, as if the rain clouds from before had just disappeared in a moment, without cause at all. The hoof prints were deep in the ground, which made her think about how additionally fortunate she was that a rainstorm had just passed, but stopped seemingly the moment her quarry’s horse passed through.
Not knowing how far ahead they may have gotten, she clicked her tongue and pushed the horse to a quicker pace. Time was definitely not a luxury right now. She only hoped that the horse wouldn’t keel over dead before she was able to catch up to them.
Once she caught up to them, then what?
She couldn’t be sure how many of the black-robed figures had managed to wake up and move out before her. Probably at least two or three, she guessed. Also, Janis wasn’t even sure if they were all together, or moving in the same direction. There were indications of multiple hoof tracks that wove in and out of trees here and there, but they always seemed to come back to the one that she was following. This is what led her to believe that she was following the right one.
That, and her gut.
Even though she disliked riding horses so much, she was quite skilled at the practice. Macks had always taught her to be a master of all trades. Admittedly, this had been the least amount of fun to learn, especially compared to dagger fighting and knife throwing, but she had learned it. Despite her dissatisfaction of the practice, her mind seemed to sync with the horse, the thrum of the hooves on the ground bringing clarity to her mind and her mission.
Her mission.
Janis couldn’t describe why she was even following Marric. She likely could have just let the boy go join Watchlight, or possibly even die, and be on her way. She imagined that Watchlight would even leave her alone after that. The danger of Watchlight was the original reason she had joined the escapade in the first place, but it no longer seemed to be a problem. Perhaps it was the opportunity to learn about Lightbearers and how to fight them that kept her here.
Something had changed and she couldn’t quite describe what it was. All she knew was that she couldn’t let the boy die. Janis somehow knew that a group like this wouldn’t take no for an answer. Based on the softness of the boy, she knew that he would decline their invitation to join them.
Then, they would kill him.
* * *
Marric could feel cool air blowing on his face, yet somehow he wasn’t awake yet. He could feel sunlight, which felt warm and inviting on his skin as well. The last thing he could remember was a pale face and a wicked grin. Then, just blackness. This was the first physical sensation that he had felt since then, and he wasn’t sure whether or not it was a good thing. Little by little, other senses attuned to wherever he was. He could hear grass whooshing softly in the field. The smell of fresh morning air mixed with wildflowers filled his nostrils. The harsh but rhythmic and almost intoxicating feel of the up and down motion of his body pulled him out of his sleep, or whatever he was doing at the moment.
He didn’t feel like he was asleep, but there was no other way to describe what he was at the moment. The strange man he presumed was Riln had mentioned that Marric was on his way there now, yet Marric had no awareness of traveling. The feeling that the pale man left him, plus what he had said gave Marric the impression that his intentions were not good. With how Avryn’s moral reasoning was, there wasn’t even the possibility that the two were associated. Though Riln hadn’t said it, Marric now knew that this was Watchlight, and if he was on his way there now, that meant he would soon be facing the man he’d heard Janis and Avryn talking about—the man he’d just Seen.
Forcing his eyes open felt really difficult to him. Eyes feeling heavy, it was as if the pull of the earth had grasped his lids and was forcing them downward. With what seemed like an inordinate amount of effort, Marric forced open his eyes just a crack and winced away from the light. It was so bright that it almost hurt. However, the sweetness of the air and the peacefulness of the sounds around him made him too curious to keep them closed.
After leaving his eyes slightly open, they adjusted to the bright sunlight and he was able to push them open further until he could make out the horizon. It was slanted, which, for a moment, seemed to make him feel a little bit of vertigo, until he got his bearings and realized that they were climbing a steep hill. He remained still for now, only moving his eyes. For some reason, he didn’t want to alert anyone around him that he was awake. Marric could feel the body of someone behind his, but he couldn’t quite tell who they were.
The world around him was beautiful. He had to force himself not to gasp at the sight. It appeared to be morning, for the sun was still low, but it was rising into the sky, its light shining on a vast field of green grass—this was what was causing the swishing sound he had just recognized a moment ago.
It wasn’t the grass blowing that caught his attention the most, but instead the vibrant flowers that sprung up in the midst of the thick, tall, grass. There were so many colors. Blues, reds, oranges, purples, yellows, even flowers with brown petals, which Marric had never seen before. They all danced in the wind as the grass did around them. The smell of the flowers filled his nose and warmed his body up in a familiar way.
Marric subtly tilted his head back so that he could see who rode behind him. It was obviously a male, whose black robe seemed stark against the wilderness background. Out of the corner of Marric’s eyes, he saw the face of the man, and his blood froze. Instantly, nausea gripped his stomach and he could feel his face pale.
Twin scars, gruesome and wicked, pulled at the edges of a nose, nostrils flared, up to his ears. The familiarity of the face was not a welcome sight. Prost likely knew his prisoner was conscious, but refused to acknowledge it in favor of not having to converse with him. Forcing his eyes away from the man, he focused on the scenery around him, which had dulled now that he realized who he was with. He was reminded where he was going, making his chest constrict with fear.
Suddenly, the world around him took on an even sharper familiarity. It wasn’t the familiarity that he had been experiencing only moments before—that was merely his mind reminiscing of similar places and sights he had seen throughout his life. No, this was different.
He had been here before.
Somehow, though he didn’t know how, he knew this place. This was odd, for he was sure he’d never been to this place before, let alone this exact place on this very mountain. Yet, it was as if he knew every little feature and characteristic of the mountainside around him. He looked slightly left, and sure enough, there was a large boulder, bigger than himself and even the horse that he rode on, that was shaped like a small mountain, cone-like, almost pointed at the top and sloping down all sides.
He shifted his eyes to the right, and as he’d Seen before, there were some mountain goats, grazing together, regal with their large and twisting horns. As if he knew what would happen, he watched them slowly move closer, grazing all the time.
That means I’m about to see the jutting rock, Marric thought.
As expected, there was a passageway opening jutting out of the mountain just before them. His stomach wrenched. He wasn’t sure if it was the oddness that he knew exactly how and where everything was in this exact spot, or the fact that this was their destination. The knowledge that he had to join a group that attacked and murdered people, and likely did all sorts of other deplorable things, didn’t help matters. He knew that through the passage were red-lit halls, filled with guards and other people, and that man, Riln. The man that would either change his life, or take it.
A moment of realization hit him as the doorway, filled with a regular-sized stone door, grew larger as they moved toward it. In the forest where he and his friends were attacked, just after his body was wrenched in terrible pain, but just before everything went black, he had seen this exact thing. Somehow, he had seen this very moment in time, which is why he felt like he had been here before.
A Seer vision. That’s what happened when I—
Marric didn’t want to think the word, for it brought both excitement that he had received his powers, but also fear because he hadn’t had any time to learn them or be taught them by Avryn. That meant that he would either use them for ill, or not use them at all. Looking up, he saw that they had arrived at the doorway.
Chapter 18
The doorway and the hall that lay behind it were far more imposing than they seemed in Marric’s vision the night before. Everything was made of stone and bathed in red. Orbs of red Light, about the size of his own head, hovered near the tops of the walls periodically throughout the hallway. They were spaced six or seven paces apart from each other, but that wasn’t far enough to break the constant Light as they traveled between two orbs.
Prost had shaken him before pulling him roughly off the horse. The boy considered himself lucky that he’d already been awake and just feigning sleep, for he was confident that this man wouldn’t have let him take the time to fully wake up before shoving him into the stone doorway. That would likely have resulted in him pitching forward down the stairs that stood just beyond the stone door, and inevitably injury, for the stairs were very steep, and seemed to go down forever.
