The Fifth Star - Chapter 9 (1/3) - Confrontations
By Anaris Bell
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Once Sparrow’s breathing settled into the slow and easy pace that indicated to Darius that she was well entrenched in sleep, he closed his eyes and retreated into his mind, letting the horse carry onwards without direction. He needed to investigate this bizarre magic that had allowed himself and his charge to share thoughts mind to mind – a phenomenon that was not simply puzzling, but alarming; the magi at the College had ceased experimenting to create that effect through magic generations ago, writing it off as an impossibility.
It was a simple task to delve into his mind. Being the first step of using any magic, it was well practiced and almost instantaneous. In a fraction of a second, he was enveloped in the familiar blue glow of his aethris. It pulsed with strength, fully replenished from his involuntary rest, and as if it had a life of its own it urged him to use it, to feel the unearthly and altogether pleasant sensation of the magic erupting from one’s fingertips to alter the world. He pushed the urging aside and sought out the foggy corner of his mind where Sparrow’s magic, which had first broken his compulsions years before, had been ever-present since that fateful day.
However, Darius did not find what he was looking for. He’d become well accustomed to the pocket of compulsion magic occupying part of his mind and finding it absent was disconcerting, but what he did find instead completely baffled him. A magic that glowed not the comforting blue of aethris, but vivid green, resided inside him, its shape similar to that of a rope – he could not see where the other end led as it extended past the edge of his mind, but presumably its other half was anchored in Sparrow’s. Or he hoped, anyway.
Green? he thought curiously, tinged with no small amount of fear. Aethris is always blue. Always. He was hesitant to investigate further, but he had little choice. Darius allowed his mental ‘form’ to make just the barest contact with the green stream, anticipating resistance or pain as with other magic not borne from oneself – but what he felt instead was a wave of calm. Emboldened by the lack of negative response, he plunged into it, immersing himself fully and feeling the perfect tranquility soak into every pore of his being. It was wonderful, but little else in the way of stimuli touched him, and he wondered how else he could affect this unknown substance.
Sparrow stirred in her seat in the physical world, nearly jolting him to attention, but the green light sent a flicker of annoyance through it. It settled at the exact moment she did, and he realized that he must be feeling her emotions. Without opening his eyes, Darius extended a hand to seek out some exposed part of Sparrow’s flesh to test the response. His fingers brushed her neck, causing the connection to flare brighter than before, and then he found himself in another environment entirely – her dream.
Sparrow sat on the rooftop of the brothel, head resting contentedly on her knees to watch as the sun set in glorious shades of orange and red. Another form sat beside her, and she didn’t need to look to know it was Rhin as his arm curled gently around her back, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She glanced up into his eyes, those deep brown orbs she so often lost herself in, and a playful smile tugged at his lips. His head moved closer, nuzzled softly at her neck and chin, moving in towards her lips…
Darius pulled back abruptly, returning to the forest. Dream or no, it felt intrusive and wrong to peer in at her subconscious. That must be how she discovered this, while I slept. What horrid nightmare of mine did she witness? He almost felt violated, but he forced that reaction aside. She wouldn’t have known what she stumbled into; that’s no fault of her own. His investigation had given him some knowledge, but honestly had left him with more questions than before. There was little to be done for it now; no amount of evaluating what little he knew would give him the answers he required.
He surveyed the forest which still enveloped them, knowing soon it would end and they would be exposed in the plains north of Lothan. Part of him scanned the trees for hidden threats, but a far more prominent part just enjoyed the world around him. Freedom. He’d longed for it for so many years, and now that he had attained it, he hardly knew what to do with such a prize. For a long while yet, their lives would be in turmoil – the Empire wasn’t about to let him go anytime soon, after all – but what would he, no, they do, when the chase was all but over? He’d told Sparrow they were headed to Kierton, and that was true, but it was also an exceedingly short-term plan of action. If they arrived and there was naught left of his home, the two of them would need to acquire safety elsewhere.
He would like to say that place would be within the Fifth Star, as they were probably the only people with the resources to keep them protected, but he lacked the connections to say that this was an available option. It was not for lack of trying; many times over, Darius had utilized his free time and set up meetings with Fifth Star recruiters. Each time he managed to attend at the proper place and time, the rebel due to meet with him had never shown. He had no illusions when it came to the reason for such. Darius’s name and his affiliation with Harlemont was well-known in Lothan, and apparently the rebels did not think the risk worth the potential reward. Even when he’d given false names prior to the meeting, and arrived under an illusionary disguise, somehow they always knew. It made him wonder how deeply imbedded the rebels truly were in the oft-dangerous politics of Valteria.
As it stood, Kierton was as far as his planning would carry them. Beyond that he couldn’t say. So rather than worry himself with uncertainties, Darius forced himself to relax and enjoy the simple pleasure of the outdoors. He loved travelling, even though up until now there had always been a target to find and eliminate at its conclusion. The rhythmic sway of the horse’s gait, scented wind rustling his hair, gazing over open fields and picturesque mountains, all of it unrestricted and begging to be explored. It was always enough to lighten his mood, and without the waiting contract at its end, this time it was even better.
Hours passed easily thus, and it felt not long at all before Sparrow began to stir in the saddle, emerging from her sleep. Anticipating her requirements, Darius signalled to the beast and the mare slowed to a stop just as Sparrow stretched her arms upward and released a mighty yawn into the sky.
“Good morning,” he greeted her jovially, though it was well past noon already.
“Mmm… afternoon,” came her groggy reply.
Darius slipped from his uncomfortable seat to the ground and offered her a hand off the horse, which she quietly accepted. For that brief moment, their minds connected with a shiver. She was still waking, her thoughts sluggish to form, so all he received besides the sensation itself was a wordless complaint as her cramped legs protested the sudden change in position. “Hungry?” he asked her, before she would need to complain.
A hand fluttered to her stomach as if to check. “Starving.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “It’ll be pretty unsatisfying, I’m afraid. I’ve only got a few days’ worth of rations here, and we can’t risk lighting another fire.”
“Doesn’t much matter at this point,” she smiled, “have you seen what they feed the prisoners in there?”
He knew full well. He knew more of that dungeon’s inner workings than he ever cared to. But that conversation would only serve to raise questions, ones he still wasn’t sure how to answer, so he flashed her a sympathetic grimace and left it at that. She disappeared behind some trees, nearby but not too close, which led him to assume she needed to relieve herself. He left her to her business and worked on pulling the foodstuffs from the pack.
A small spread of bread, meat and cheese was laid out before she returned. Sparrow didn’t hesitate to join him where he sat cross-legged on the ground, digging into the meal with a hearty appetite the moment she was herself seated. Once her immediate need was sated, she slowed and reclined, looking at Darius with open curiosity while they both continued to eat.
Oh gods, here it comes.
After a tense moment, she got her courage. “So, who are you really?”
The question came while Darius chewed on a piece of leathery jerky. He took his time, delaying the response, chewing thoroughly and swallowing the morsel while he chose his words with care.
“A man with your best interests at heart.”
“But why?” she insisted with exasperation. “Back in that castle you promised me an explanation. I did not forget that so quickly.”
“So it would seem,” he grunted, with a hint of annoyance. He’d have rather been the one to prompt this conversation, so his words could be well-prepared.
Before he could think of how else to continue, Sparrow went on. “Is there something you don’t want me to know?” Her expression was tight and suddenly distrustful. If he didn’t tell her the truth of it now, it seemed likely she would not believe him later.
“No, it’s not like that… well, not quite,” Darius answered, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache that threatened to rise. “This goes back a long way. And some of it will be difficult to explain, where you don’t yet understand the workings of magic.”
“Then try your best,” she stated, “for I would know more of you and your intentions before we go any further.”
“Fair enough. The horse needs a rest anyway, lest she collapse on us.” Darius finished the last of the dried meat he held, brushed his fingers together, then unfolded his legs and positioned himself for comfort in the grassy clearing they now occupied.
“I was sent to Lothan eight years ago, after I completed my training at the College, bound by magic to serve the Empire faithfully. I had no hope of ever breaking the spells and freeing myself – no one ever does – so I did as I was told in all things. No questions asked, for to consider anything beyond my duties would only make me more aware of the restrictions against my person. Each day was little different than the one which preceded it, and it wasn’t long before I began to feel like a walking dead man.”
“What manner of magic can do that?” she asked.
“Compulsion, they call it. It’s exactly what it sounds like. A mage with that talent can control the thoughts and intentions of others. The Empire uses it often and generously; every mage that leaves the College is so bespelled, to ensure their continuing loyalty after they possess powers beyond those of a common man.”
“That sounds awful.”
“Tis not the compulsion itself that is so terrible. All magic can be used for evil, but it does not necessitate the same; much as the wounds inflicted by a sword do not belong to the blade, but to its wielder.”
“I see,” she intoned, her brow furrowed with thought. “Please, continue.”
Darius nodded. “A year after I began working for Harlemont, I was sent to watch over Lothan’s Homecoming ceremony. I grew up in a small farming village, so the tradition and grand occasion were all but unknown to me. I had no idea what manner of day to expect.” He noted Sparrow’s tense body language at the turn this tale had taken. She knew what was coming. But had she felt anything when her magic had touched him? He’d wondered that many times and realized how close he came to knowing. “I suspect you know where this is headed. One man was sentenced to death, and none came to his aid, save a young woman. You.”
Sparrow practically squirmed, but said nothing.
“Actually, I’ll interrupt myself for a moment. I need to ask; who was that man whose lashes you took in his stead? He must have been important to you, to give yourself so.”
Now she looked away, her head hanging low. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I have no idea who he was, and I never laid eyes upon him after that day. I don’t even know if he still lives.” She took in a breath and released it. “I was young and naïve, and that mistake cost me dearly,” she said, sadly and plainly as though she’d recited it a thousand times before.
Darius was flabbergasted. “You… didn’t know him?”
Sparrow shook her head.
“That was-”
“Incredibly stupid?” she supplied, clearly thinking she was about to be berated for it.
“I was going to say ‘unbelievably brave,’ actually.” She looked up at him again and he smiled in wonder at her spirit. Who else would have sacrificed so much? He didn’t know a single man or woman who could say they were so selfless. He knew he most certainly would not fit such criteria. Sparrow returned his smile, tentatively at first, then broader, and he saw the glint of an unshed tear in one eye, quickly blinked away before he should have noticed.
“I’ll continue, if you wish?” he prompted.
“Of course.”
“I don’t know how aware you were of what happened. But when you fell unconscious in the square, your magic triggered.”
“How is that possible? Up until I was taken to the dungeon I had no idea I…” she paused, clearly still having trouble accepting the truth of the words that followed, “possessed magic.”
“Often, a triggering event isn’t controlled by the mage in question. Magic can sometimes have somewhat of a will of its own.”
“So while I was out, I… cast a spell, is what you’re saying?”
“Precisely,” he confirmed, “Except I doubt any in the world could have predicted its outcome. Somehow, your spell found me – and broke all the compulsions the Empire had cast on me. In the blink of an eye I went from a slave to a free man, and it seemed I was the only one around who was affected.”
“My magic did that? How?”
“I don’t know, Sparrow. As far as I’m aware, I’m the only person who’s ever been freed from Empire magic, and I have you alone to thank for it. That is why I say I have your best interests at heart. I owe you…” he paused, trying to think of a suitable word for the strength of his gratitude, “everything.”
Sparrow buried her head in her hands. He gave her some quiet moments to comprehend all he had told her. It was a long time before she spoke.
“If I freed you, as you’ve said… then why did you stay? Why would you continue to work for Harlemont, continue to act as a slave, when you hated it so terribly? Surely you could have run.”
“Aye, I hated it. I had to pretend the Empire still controlled me, do every despicable thing they asked with no hesitation. But I continued there to keep you safe,” he explained, “and how better to inform your Mistress of Seer patrols, and keep the magi from finding you, than by maintaining my inside source of information?”
So far, this was the only thing he’d said that managed to elicit a gasp of surprise. “You mean…” she stammered, the words binding in her mouth so she could barely release them, “Raven knew, and she never told me?!” The surprise was quickly morphing into anger, right before his eyes.
“Yes, she knew. I sent her letters – anonymously of course, by way of an illiterate courier who cared more for my coin than any sense of duty to Lothan – explaining only that you had a talent. Then, only when a patrol was due. The choice for me to interfere, or not, I left in her hands.”
“You should have defied her. You should have told me yourself!” she yelled at him, her frustrated vocalisation echoing in the trees. She was standing now, her hands curled into fists at her sides.
Darius’s ire began to rise at her manner. “And what then?!” he snapped back. “Would you have believed a complete stranger without seeing the proof for yourself? Would you have been willing to leave everything you knew behind based on the words of one man you didn’t know?”
“Funny; that sounds like exactly what I agreed to just yesterday,” she retorted.
“That’s different. Your only other choice was the College, if Harlemont didn’t manage to kill you first.”
“Yes, and only your word to go on. How do I know the College is as awful as you say? Maybe I should have let them take me there, if that’s where I’m supposed to be.”
An involuntary growl escaped him. “You know nothing of what you speak,” he spat at her, struggling to take control of his volume, “I didn’t spend the last seven years keeping you from there for no reason.”
“Why, then? What did they do to you there?” she challenged, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
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