Echoes of Memory, page 23
Barely older than Sephira? Aris’ skin prickled at that.
“Treall went to question him, but he had a dagger hidden in his cloak and before we could even see what had happened, he was dying,” Sephira choked up at the memory and Aris put his arms around his niece again, holding her close.
“I couldn’t do anything to save him,” Kestrel’s voice was grave with despondence.
“I saw that he was reaching for another knife in his cloak and he was gonna murder Kestrel, so I dove at him. I didn’t want to see anyone else die,” Sephira said. “The next thing I knew Kestrel was there and wrestling the knife free. I don’t understand what happened next, but it seemed like the moment that Kestrel touched him, his whole demeanor changed and the next thing I know, he goes crazy and stabs the knife into his own neck!”
They talked a while longer, and Aris asked many more questions until the duo was too tired to continue answering.
Things had just gotten much more complicated.
Chapter 35
ARIS’ MOOD MIRRORED the overcast weather the rest of the day. He hated feeling powerless. He hated that Treall had died under his command. He hated that he had been foolish enough to believe that just the one secret guard would be enough to keep his niece safe. He hated all those things, but most of all, he hated seeing his family hurt.
That feeling of helplessness, that he hadn’t been able to do a thing to protect them boiled in his blood. What was worse was the man who had nearly killed them in the first place had been one of his own.
How poisoned were his guards? He had half-believed Kestrel’s story of corrupt guards killing a child and he had looked into it. Every organization had corruption. He was not foolish enough to think otherwise, but he’d allowed the investigation to falter. There had been few leads and so many more pressing issues. It was okay to let the investigation slow while other, more pressing issues were at hand.
Or so he thought. How wrong he’d been.
Aris used to know his place in the world. He had known where he belonged and had carved his niche into the stone there. Yes, his was a place among the squalor of a broken people, but it had been his. He knew that world. He trusted those he worked with. Even some of the dirty ones who were lax on the protection of the money of those they were protecting faltered, still more often than not pulled through in times of need. Rel had turned that upside down. He expected small measures of corruption in his force. It happened everywhere and he was powerless to weed out every instance of it, but Rel had attacked his family. He had nearly killed his niece. His trust in his organization was being burned to the ground.
Everything he trusted in was being eaten away to its core.
First, he’d found the ties to the kidnapping of children that plagued Fiell and the Emperor’s Inquisitors, then he had found his own organization had rotted from the inside, and one of his own had nearly gotten his niece and Kestrel killed.
Everything had been shaken.
Who had been behind the attack?
Only one name came to mind.
It had to be Edrian Wolls. It was the only thing that made sense. Cillia must have seen his meeting with the rebels and he’d freaked out and found someone corrupt enough to do his dirty work for him and not get imprisoned for it.
That had to be it.
If his hunch were true, then just how deep did the Minister of Defense’s tendrils bury into the Veaish empire? How much had he corrupted already? Could anything the man did be trusted?
More importantly, what was he to make of The Minister of Defense’s connection to Emperor Evrain?
Could he still trust the man he’d dedicated so much of his life to?
That’s what ate at Aris the most.
Every fiber in him knew that he couldn’t.
“Useless rubbish!” Edrian Woll’s screamed and slammed his fine crystalline goblet down on the deep cherrywood table, shattering it. Even in his rage, he refused to curse. He was above those other fools who couldn’t control their tongues. He merely grimaced as a chip of the crystal sliced a fine line on his hand. He would not debase himself with foul language.
He’d been bred better than that.
“You’re amusing,” A deep, almost silky, voice chuckled. “You think that one rogue city guard and an Inquisitor would be enough? If so, you are a fool.”
Edrian reddened. The playful chastisement burned more deeply than any harshly-worded reprimand. Here, next to him, was the one man he looked up to more than anyone else in the world. The Emperor was who Edrian strived to emulate. The Emperor alone was above the rest of the filth that plagued their country. The Emperor was the hero that had saved their nation. He was perfect, in appearance and strength. He stood so high above the crowds that Edrian sometimes wondered if the Emperor carried a spark of divinity within him.
“He shouldn’t have failed! I used an Inquisitor! How did this happen?” Edrian’s voice betrayed his bewilderment. “It was but a child he was facing and The Inquisitor was there to make sure he would not fail!”
He had expected Rel’s failure, that fool had been bound to disappoint, hence the Inquisitor who had been there to bury a spike in the vitriolic guard’s throat the moment he spoke. What he hadn’t expected though was the death of the Inquisitor that looked, for all the world, to have been self-inflicted.
What could that mean?
What had bothered Edrian more than anything had been the lightning flash of fear he had seen in the Emperor’s eyes upon hearing of the Inquisitor’s seeming suicide. It had been but the barest dilation of his eyes, nearly invisible, but Edrian Wolls was certain of what he had seen.
The Emperor, who was so high above the world, hid fear in his heart.
“I’ve amused your suspicions long enough my dear Edrian. If Aris truly is who you say, then we will find out my way,” Evrain purred to the Minister of Defense, then whispered under his breath, “And it doesn’t matter if he is or not. We can use him either way. We’ll inflate him so that when he fails, it’ll feed us all the more.”
Chapter 36
“WHAT’S SHE DOING HERE?” Wallace demanded. Dawn was still almost two hours away as they stood on the mountain, bathed in the starry night.
He had heard of Kestrel and Sephira’s harrowing ordeal and knew this meeting was inevitable, but still, it burned at him. He’d promised Van he would shield his family from magic, and he’d failed them.
Miserably.
He’d lost Van’s wife he’d never been able to meet to the Forgotten, and now, not only had Aris, Van’s younger brother, been drawn into their dark world but so had Van’s daughter, Sephira.
He was an abject failure. No one could have done a worse job of keeping a secret than he.
Give it a few more days, and I’ll take the twins, Corrine, and half of the barracks under my tutelage as well, Wallace huffed at the thought.
“She survived an Inquisitor’s attack. You WILL teach her. She’s been dragged into our mess and I won’t let her be unequipped,” Aris’ voice let Wallace know there was no option but to teach her.
The old soldier let out a long sigh, his shoulders drooped in defeat. I’m sorry Van old friend. I really did try. I did my best.
Over the next half hour, Wallace gave Sephira a condensed version of the explanation he’d given to Kestrel and Aris. The girl, to her credit, caught on quicker than both her uncle and Kestrel. It was as if she was reviewing a language she learned but had thought forgotten and in just a short time of instruction she had surpassed both in her understanding of Magic.
The sun had nearly risen and the horizon had turned a light green by the time they finished. The dawn would soon break and bathe the morning in brilliant pinks and oranges.
Sephira couldn’t summon the magic though.
They quickly realized she was no Memory Mage, but despite her inability to access it, she recognized the touch of magic more deeply than anyone Wallace had ever met. By the end of the lesson, she was recognizing its touch at a level that had taken Wallace himself years to attain.
As the dawn broke and the sun greeted the resting city of Fiell, Wallace gruffly called an end to the session. Wallace led them down from the rabbit trails that led to their small hidden grove. Kestrel watched the greying man in awe while they descended. He made no sound as he trekked over the pine-bough-laden trails. Despite his aging appearance, Wallace moved with the grace of a Mountain Leopard.
His stealth was a vivid reminder of his deadly past as a soldier.
That gave Kestrel an idea.
“So, what do you think?” Kestrel asked. “Can you teach me or not?”
Wallace nodded. It was a great idea, how he’d not thought of it himself was still a mystery to him. His use of Memory Magic had saved his life more than once in the Mountain Campaigns, and any edge that Aris and the boy could get might one day save their lives.
Aris grinned when he saw Wallace’s response. Kestrel had approached him not long after descending the foothill they trained upon with the idea of adapting Memory Magic to the battlefield. He’d told Aris how helpless he’d felt under the touch of the Inquisitor during their battle, and how the man wielded his memory like a weapon.
Though their abilities were different than those of the Inquisitors, why couldn’t they too, weaponize their abilities?
Aris had immediately seen the brilliance in the young man’s thoughts. The boy, though unlearned, had surprising wisdom.
He had been just as excited to test it out as Kestrel. He wouldn’t let himself pass up any opportunity that would allow him to better protect his family.
They began their match. Wallace’s instructions rang clear through the sparring grounds. Memories wove together with the tangle of grappling bodies. At a touch, Kestrel saw where Aris’ knee tended to buckle from an old injury and trapped the General’s leg as leverage for a sweep that left the older blonde man on the sandy ground.
Aris grinned. “Wonderful! Now it’s my turn!” he rushed at Kestrel and caught him in a clinch.
There!
He immediately found the memory of the knot in Kestrel’s calf that had been giving him problems for a few days. Kestrel posted and created enough distance to try and sneak an uppercut through the General’s guard. Aris pushed him away and landed a heavy leg kick on the sore spot that had been hurting Kestrel. The young man collapsed in a heap, he grabbed his calf and cursed in pain.
“You’re a jerk,” Kestrel growled as he took Aris’ offered hand to help him regain his footing.
“Yeah, but a jerk who can target weak spots. It’s great isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Kestrel’s grin was feral. “Now it’s my turn!”
Sephira’s life continued much the same as it had before the attack. The only difference is she no longer did the shopping. That was now handled by household servants.
She had fought with her aunt over it, but Corrine had insisted and wouldn’t budge no matter how Sephira begged or pleaded. She knew that everything was changing under her and couldn’t do a thing about it and she loathed that fact. At least with this small thing she could keep her niece safe from whatever darkness her family was being pulled into.
Without her daily excursions into the city, Sephira began to feel stifled. She was like a Mountain Leopard stuck in a showman’s cage. Her freedom had been taken from her by Rel and the dead Inquisitor. She couldn’t bear the inactivity, so, after spending a day fuming over her aunt’s edict Sephira decided to put all her energy into her sessions with Wallace and the small coterie that had forced themselves into his tutelage. It fulfilled that desperate need for something to do that her confinement caused.
Sephira’s skill in recognizing the touch of magic shot up like a Lilly sprouting from the late spring snows in the mountains. By her fourth meeting, she could not only recognize every touch, but she’d nearly mastered laying the trap for Takers that had taken Kestrel months to perfect.
“Let’s try again,” Wallace said, his breath creating a cloud of condensation in the air in front of him, hanging like a cloud in the darkness. “Give me your hand girl.”
Sephira nodded. Kestrel and her uncle had already made their way down the mountain, but she had insisted she would stay and work with Wallace just a little longer.
Sephira placed her tanned right hand into Wallace’s outstretched calloused paw. His hand lightly squeezed her and for a brief second, she wondered if this was what having a grandfather felt like.
She had never known hers. Her father Van had run with Aris to get away from the drunken abuse they had been raised under. To this day Aris didn’t know if his father was dead or alive, nor did he care.
Sephira immediately felt the strange tingle she’d come to recognize as a Taker’s touch. It was an odd phantom limb feeling.
Sephira made a face of discomfort at the touch on her memories and winced.
“It’s okay dear, there’s nothing to worry about,” Wallace reassured her.
A dam inside of Sephira’s mind broke at those words.
Wallace fell into a flood of memories.
Wallace watched from a child’s eyes as Van and his wife, her face a blur, argued for what seemed like the millionth time. Wallace heard crying he knew what his own, or rather, Sephira’s, and felt helpless not being able to comfort her mother.
“I’m in Sephira’s memories.” He reminded himself while he watched Van standing resolute despite his bride’s pleading. Even after decades of using Memory Magic, he could get caught up and lose himself if he wasn’t on constant guard.
Wallace couldn’t understand what was happening. Sephira must have only been only about two years old in the memory. The words were lost on him in her recollection, but the faces and gestures were unmistakable.
It was the look of pain born from love.
“I have to do something!” Wallace recognized Van’s voice. “I can’t just sit by and watch as this monster eats away at the soul of our nation! I love it too much to let it happen!” the memories had shifted. The picture of her father was clearer in Sephira’s mind and Wallace knew that this must’ve taken place shortly before Van’s execution.
“Stay with us! We need you! If you keep going on like this, you’re bound to be caught! I don’t know what I’d do without you. How could I take care of our baby alone?” the voice of Sephira’s mother struck a chord in Wallace’s mind.
Why couldn’t he see her face?
He should be able to see her face.
Something was wrong.
“I’m sorry my love. You’ll never truly know just how sorry I am. How much I wish we didn’t live in this time. How much I wish didn’t have this ability that I’ve been given. But I have it, and I have not only a duty to my family, but I also swore an oath to serve and protect my country,” Van’s voice dripped with sadness and determination. Wallace could tell he was psyching himself up with his words.
That familiar voice that Wallace couldn’t quite place let out a sigh and a small grunt of affirmation. “I know, and that’s why I fell in love with you in the first place. You truly love everyone. It’s just unbearable thinking of what might happen to you and what I would do without you.”
Van’s hand reached to the head of his wife and brushed a stray hair away. He cupped the back of her head and drew her into a tender kiss.
A barrage of memories poured through Wallace’s mind. Sephira’s childhood unfolded before his eyes. He wondered if his eyes were watering as he watched her memories of her father Van, whom he’d trained, and whose death he still felt was his fault all these years later.
Wallace had been Van’s teacher in magic. And it was that magic that had opened the path he had walked down towards his execution. He had inadvertently caused the death of Sephira’s father, and now here he was, teaching her the same magic that had gotten her father put to death.
He was a fool.
Wallace tried to pull his hand from Sephira’s. The memories were more than he could handle. Each one reminded him of his greatest failure. They were monuments to the death of a great man that he had failed.
Wallace had almost yanked free, but as his touch lifted a memory yanked him back into Sephira’s mind like a magnet.
“It’s okay darling, I’ll take all the pain from you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Your daddy did a terrible thing and he paid for it. But you don’t have to remember it. You can remember him before he was taken,” a sickly sweet high pitched voice whose words dripped like molasses cooed to her.
“Your family betrayed you. They weren’t there for you when you needed them the most,” The man was lying. He had to be. Her daddy was her hero. He would never do anything wrong. He WAS a good man. This gross man was a liar. “We care about what’s best for you. The Emperor loves his subjects. He loves all the little children. He only wants what’s best for you. So I’ll take all that sadness from you and give you a new family. I’ll give you a better one. One that’s loyal to the Emperor. I’ll take that traitor you called father and give you one whose loyalty will never betray you.”
Wallace watched as Sephira sat quietly in terror. She didn’t dare breathe, afraid of what might happen if she tried to escape.
She was terrified not only for her life but the life of her mother as well. These were bad men. They would hurt her. She had seen them hurt people.
She didn’t want to be hurt. She didn’t want them to touch her.
Still, she was too afraid to move.
The hand softly rested on her forehead. It was cold and wet. It felt like a dead fish.
