Awakened, page 34
“A bit unorthodox, but a display of Conjuring, nonetheless. Though it would be useless without any arrows.” Riln said, raising a white eyebrow at him. He didn’t explicitly say it, but Marric knew it was another challenge.
Inside, Marric could feel that something had changed—a doubt seemed to have dissolved. He couldn’t describe it, but he held out his left hand, and an arrow instantly appeared, made also of the blue Light.
“Your Light is still blue,” Riln said, a look of disgust on his face, “but no worries, we’ll take care of that. It will shine red as it should in no time.”
Marric continued to stare at the Light-made weapons in his hand, rubbing his fingers over the wood of the bow, the fletching on the arrow. They looked so fake, but felt so real.
“Well? Are you going to shoot the blasted thing or not?” Riln said. “Let’s see your work, hmm?”
Jumping to attention, Marric looked at Riln and nodded, still saying nothing.
Marric paused then, realizing that there weren’t really any good targets. An arrow couldn’t pierce a stone wall or even a pillar.
“Fogging boy, just shoot the arrow,” he spat.
Marric reeled inside, but at the tone of Riln’s command, fastened the arrow into place and pulled the string back. Gasping to himself, Marric realized how natural this felt. The bow felt exactly like the one he’d used for most of his life. It was as if the bow he knew so well had been changed into Light, the wood form disappearing completely.
Evening out his breathing, he concentrated as he’d become accustomed to when shooting with his bow. Marric was relieved that this had become a habit for him, and it felt natural and comfortable. He released the string and the familiar swish of the arrow flying hit his ears. With a crack, it struck the pillar, the same one that Riln had stabbed just before with the Light-made knife, and bounced off, clattering to the ground.
Riln pursed his lips, but nodded.
“Your Conjures are still weak, but you will learn. In time, that arrow will be able to pierce even the hardest of things. For now, I am pleased with what you’ve shown. Now, for your final power. Show me.”
Marric just stood there. He had somehow forgotten that he should manifest a third power as well, and he wasn’t sure what to do. It seemed silly, but he asked the first question that came to his mind.
“But . . . sir, what do I do with this?” he said as he raised the bow up slightly.
Riln stared at him in disbelief. Despite the look of frustration on his face, Riln spoke with a level tone and a calmness that made Marric feel even more in danger than he was before.
“Just drop it.”
It felt strange, but Marric did what the man said and just let the bow fall. To his surprise, it disappeared as it left his hands, becoming nothing. Marric felt like he couldn’t revel in the wonder of how it worked, though he still paused to take it in, anyway. This was apparently the wrong choice, for Riln huffed again in impatience and clenched his fists to the side.
Raising his hands up, Marric hoped that something would happen, like when he had Conjured the bow and arrow, if he just moved his hands. Unfortunately, nothing did.
For a moment, they all stood there, quiet, watching. Marric could feel a bead of sweat run down the side of his cheek, and it felt alarmingly like an insect moving slowly downwards toward the nape of his neck in the darkness of the space underneath his clothing. It took a considerable amount of control for him to not wipe it away.
Come on . . . please. . . . Marric thought desperately. Lanser—bless me, make this work!
Despite his prayers, nothing happened.
Riln, clearly not willing to wait, growled in frustration and summoned his red-lit dagger, but this time, he was too far away to stab Marric. He had started pacing while they waited for something to happen, and had stopped eight or so paces away from where Marric stood, still in the spot where he’d been for the duration of the encounter so far. Thinking that the space would protect him from the sharp blade, Marric was shocked when, without warning, Riln hurled the dagger at him, directly at his chest.
Gasping, Marric dove to the side. He wasn’t quick enough, however, and the blade sliced a gash in his arm. The sharp sensation of the cut seemed to pierce his mind, taking his attention away from all else. All he could feel was the pain. Up until now, before he met Avryn, Janis—Riln even, Marric had experienced very few encounters with pain. Yet, in just a matter of days, he’d been hurt so many times as to exceed all other experiences like them in his lifetime.
He still wasn’t used to it.
After the initial sharpness of the pain subsided slightly, Marric could feel his fear again. He could feel the panic, the almost loss of control. Pushing through these feelings, he rose to his knees and looked for Riln, finding him in the same place. Without a word, the man gritted his teeth, summoned the blade again, and threw it at Marric.
Time slowed down. The dagger seemed to fly slowly, unnaturally, right toward Marric’s face. Then it happened. Instinctively, he threw up his hands to block the incoming danger, and the knife, wreathed in blue light now, ricocheted off of some invisible force and clattered off to the side.
Riln smiled, though it didn’t seem a happy smile, more like one that you see on the face of a child with a mischievous plan; a plan that isn’t a good one for anyone but themselves.
Marric shook. Seeing knives threaten his life so many times was pushing him past a point that he’d never been to—he could feel himself about to break. All at once, pain in his arm pushed its way into his consciousness and he remembered where he’d been cut only moments before. The warm blood ran down his arm like the feeling of warm bath water, only slower and thicker. Then, he vomited.
He was in shock. Marric had only heard of this sensation from hunters who braved large beasts for the biggest kill. Or warriors that told stories of battles they’d won and even lost, lying on the ground feeling one’s body take control of one’s mind, and feeling close to death. Each limb felt cold to Marric, which seemed to emphasize the warmth of the blood that ran down his arm. Suddenly it felt comforting, as if it was the only heat he had to rely on. However, when he remembered the source, his stomach churned.
I can’t be dying, can I? The cut wasn’t that deep.
“Remarkable. It’s been what seems like ages since I’ve seen a Lightbearer with multiple functioning powers upon awakening, particularly one that has survived the process. You are a special one indeed, Marric. You will be my champion. You will head the cause of Watchlight. You will usher in the new age, right by my side.”
Marric was beginning to get dizzy. He fell to his knees, fearing that if he didn’t, he would pass out completely, and this didn’t seem like the time or the place for that to happen.
“I will teach you all that you need to know. Your powers will be so great that our enemies will fear you.”
The boy listened, but passively. He could hardly understand what he was being told; his sickness, dizziness, and pain overtaking most of his capable senses.
There must be something I can do to control this. What can I do? Marric thought desperately.
Then he remembered something Avryn had said. What was it, exactly?
“Lightbearers manifest all powers, though some are weak . . . ”
It felt like a dream, and he wasn’t even confident that anything would happen, but recalling the memory of Avryn healing his own arm, the first time Marric had seen the man’s Fixing, he tried to do the same. He remembered Avryn hovering his hand slightly over the wound and a dull Light flashing slowly, and when he moved it, the cut was gone. Riln continued to speak, but Marric heard none of it, focused only on that very moment that seemed like forever ago, but was only days in the past.
Slowly, he affixed his hand over the cut which seemed distant now that he was lost in memory, and felt his hand warm up slightly, as if a fire finally started to rise and send warmth to those sitting closeby. In his side vision, he saw the blue Light—small and dull, yet strong and pulsing. The pain subsided from his arm almost completely, though raw pink skin and some stinging remained. Then the Light was gone.
Riln stopped speaking and looked at Marric, curious.
“Ahh, well done. You aren’t a Fixer by birth, but it seems that you’ve been able to make use of the limited power you have with it.”
He raised a white eyebrow at Marric, clearly pleased, yet surprised at the same time.
Marric felt a thrill in his chest at using his powers. Riln had promised power and training, and he wanted to keep it close, to thrive in it. Before he could revel in his thoughts too long, he heard the words of the blind woman again.
“You’ll have to make a choice where yeh stand ‘ere soon. Untold challenges lie ahead. Trust yer gut and what yeh learn, and remember wha’ true goodness is.”
Inside, he knew Riln was twisted. He knew the promised power wouldn’t be worth it. True goodness wasn’t about just power for power’s sake. It was about helping others—and that certainly wasn’t the aim of Watchlight.
I have to get out of here, he thought.
“You must rest. But only for a short time. Your training begins today. Come, my boon, please take our newest member to rest.” Riln said.
For a moment, Marric thought he was ‘my boon’, until a slim figure, clothed in the common black cloak came out of the shadows to his side. His hood was down, and Marric’s breath caught as he saw who it was.
Jord.
So that wasn’t a dream, then?
Hearing Marric’s reaction to seeing Jord, Riln looked between the both of them, then spoke again.
“Ahh, yes, I had forgotten that there is a history between you two. How very fortunate that you are together again, part of the same family. Jord, take him. Begin teaching him our ways.”
Eyes wide, Marric stared at Jord, who nodded curtly to Riln and walked toward him, not making any eye contact at all.
“Come.” Jord said.
Feeling awkward, Marric stood up. Inside, he wanted to shout for joy and hug his friend, the one he’d missed for so many years, the one that he’d thought had been killed, lost from this world, but the air around his friend felt wrong. It felt dark, ominous, and unwelcoming. Conflicted, he reached out and grabbed Jord’s arm, stopping the boy from turning away.
Immediately, a red burst of Light flashed on Marric’s arm with a crack, breaking his hold as the sleeve of his shirt exploded to bits. Pain seared into his forearm from the microexplosion of his shirt, singeing the hair and leaving a red burn mark. Marric shouted in pain and held his newly injured arm to his stomach.
“Don’t touch me.”
Without another word, Jord turned and stalked out of the door, leaving Marric there, shaking with pain from his new injury.
Seeming even more instinctive this time, Marric Fixed his arm, though it wasn’t complete. The slight pulse of the blue light felt so soothing, relaxing almost, and the pain went away completely for a beat. However, a red rash, almost like a healing burn, still ran its way from his wrist to the inside of his elbow.
He heard a chuckle from behind him and turned to see Riln laughing to himself.
“My boon has gained such control over his Destroying. You should consider yourself lucky, my boy. Six months ago, you likely would have lost an arm to his powers. I will have the same pride for you as you gain control over your new birthright. You’ll find in time that you have no better family than us. Prost, if you would, it seems Jord is unwilling to wait for you. Please help Marric catch up with his old and soon-to-be new best friend.”
Prost, who Marric had forgotten was present, stood with his back to a pillar, arms folded, and though he didn’t know it was possible, seemed to have an even angrier look on his face. The anger didn’t seem to be directed at him, but rather at Riln.
The burly scar-faced man grunted and nodded slightly. He then walked to Marric, gripped his upper arm, and hoisted him easily to his feet. It wasn’t harsh, in fact, it felt gentle and considerate, and suddenly he seemed the least scary and imposing person in the room to Marric. That seemed odd considering how he felt about the man just before they came to this place.
The two of them moved into the hallway and started to walk up another ramp that ringed the large cavern.
Marric’s mind raced. He couldn’t stay here. This all felt wrong. He couldn’t live this way, or with people that treated him so. Riln spoke of family, of friends, of power, but none of it felt right. He had to escape, but the whole place was crawling with black-robed figures, many of whom kept their hoods up, hiding their faces.
How can they live this way? How can they continue being treated like this?
A tear fell from his eye and cascaded down his cheek. He hated crying, but there wasn’t anything else he could do at the moment.
One such black robed figure suddenly stepped in front of Marric and Prost, blocking their path.
“What in the blazes are you—”
Marric heard Prost grunt and jump backwards. He didn’t see what happened, but a strong arm gripped his own and yanked him back down the hallway before turning sharply to the left and away from Riln’s throne room in a different direction.
“Fog it! Stop!” Prost yelled.
His own feet were moving fast, almost too fast for him to keep up. The black-robed figure didn’t let go, nor did they slow their pace. The two ran at a break-neck pace, moving down the ramp. Marric couldn’t breathe, he felt like he might pass out, exhausted from the travel and the previous events. He thought he should have felt scared, but he was too tired at the moment.
Chancing a look backwards, he saw Prost barreling after them, pushing through people and shouting about intruders. Suddenly, however, Prost fell forward, landing on his hands and knees and coughing.
“Stop . . . them—” then he collapsed.
Marric stared in shock at Prost and then looked at the figure standing next to him. Pulling the hood back, Marric saw raven black hair, dark eyes, and the most cheering thing possible.
Janis had come.
Chapter 19
Janis yanked on Marric’s hand to pull him forward faster. It was ironic that someone of his age and size could hinder their progress so easily, but he was clearly out of sorts at the moment. The stone felt extra hard against her feet as they ran, likely because she usually tried to keep to the softest part of the ground in order to maintain stealth. No, it wasn’t impossible to be stealthy on a stone floor such as this, it just required more attention and effort. Unfortunately, her companion had no such practice and his feet clopped on the floor noisily.
Pursuing Marric and Prost had been far less challenging or exciting than she had thought, but perhaps she should have considered herself lucky in that. Janis hadn’t given much thought to her plan, she just knew that she couldn’t be too far behind the two, otherwise tracking them would have been nearly impossible. She had run into several hooded figures that were trailing further behind their leader, but daggers had made quick work of them. She felt little remorse considering they ambushed Janis and her companions first. Entering the lair was more risky, given the close quarter. She couldn’t leave corpses everywhere anymore. Luckily, she still had some poisons that made victims fall asleep instantly or get violently sick. Just before she slipped into the lair, she had coated her blades with as much as she had.
Shouts continued behind them as the two barreled down the ramp to the next doorway. Fortunately for both of them, the way out was not that far from where Marric had his audience with the pasty man.
As they rounded the corner, Janis honed her hearing to determine how far behind them their pursuers were. Her urgency increased as she realized that they were not too far behind. Echoes of footsteps rang through their cavern, announcing that the feet making them were just nearby. Janis rushed through the door, yanking Marric along and past the first guards. Hovering still near the top of the walls, the red orbs seemed to intensify, making the passageways even more ghastly and disturbing.
A flash of Light appeared in the final doorway and Janis had to dig her feet in to stop their movement. The initial flash then filled the doorway with a wall of red Light.
Fog it, we’re trapped! Janis thought.
Spinning around, she saw four or five black robed figures fill the hallway, blocking off their escape. Janis immediately drew her daggers and thanked Lanser that she’d thought to coat the blades with the poisons before coming in here. Crouching down, she prepared to pounce on the closest figure, a man with long hair and pock-marked cheeks.
Just before she was able to slice him, however, the man was wreathed in blue Light, bright and intense, and he was thrown backwards into his companions, creating a fuss of black cloth and shouting. Confused, Janis looked to the side to see Marric, looking determined, with his hand outstretched.
Did he just—? Janis was unable to finish the thought as Marric pulled his hand back and thrust it forward, face hard.
Once again, blue Light surrounded the black robed figure, this time along with a few of his companions, and they were all thrown back again, some through the doorway and some smashing hard into the wall. She even heard the crack of a skull slamming into something. Those that hit the wall slumped to the ground, unconscious, while the others tried to stand up, tripping over each other.
Realizing that this was their only chance to escape the trap, Janis grabbed Marric by the hand and darted back through the doorway they had just come through, dragging the boy with her.
By now, more of a fuss had been created in the cavern as they saw more and more robed figures coming out of the doorways and halls to see what the commotion was. Just as she passed the pile of people Marric had somehow thrown back, she saw one open his hand where a ball of red Light appeared.
