Arbiter (The Arbiter Chronicles Book 1) (3 page)

Rae paced the small library that Varra had led her to, studying the books on the shelf. The young mage had seemed rather startled by Rae’s admission and had gone to talk to her teachers. The longer she waited, the more she regretted stating her business outright. At the very least, though, she was getting things done. She sighed, putting the thought out of her mind for the moment as she studied the titles of the books.

Several of them seemed to be devoted to different forms of magical theory, judging from what she could understand. Many had self-explanatory names, like
A Basic Introduction to Spellcraft
or
Advanced Runic Lettering
but quite a few had names that were a little harder to understand, such as
Understanding the Sylvan Series,
or
Brilliant Series: A Primer.
Thankfully, most of the books seemed to be in English, although she caught sight of a few books written in a different script.

She pulled out one of the basic magical texts, deciding that if she was going to live in this world for a year, she might as well familiarize herself with it. Rae carried the book over to one of the library tables, laying it out in front of her and beginning to read. 

“Magic, in all its forms, stems from a Source. All humans possess a Source. It is what gives them life and sentience, separating them from the animals. All members of the Ivali—,”
Here, she paused, frowning as she studied the word. Ivali? She shook her head, continuing on.
“All members of the Ivali possess a Source, but in composition and effect, a Ivali's Source is fundamentally different from that of an Enteli—a human.”

“The Source alone is not enough to grant the person Influence, defined here as the ability to cast magic. The term Influence is so named because it 'influences' the world around the mage to conform to a different order—an outward manifestation of a Source of sufficient strength. A person who has the ability to exert Influence may then qualify for training in the arcane arts.”

“Magical training is most commonly begun between the ages of nine and twelve, although a Source can begin to exert Influence at any point in a person’s life. The apprentice mage first learns the basics of magic, and is then instructed to try their hand at several basic spells. These basic spells, known as the First Teachings, form the basis of the Series. A young mage who shows aptitude in more than one Series is then asked to choose the Series that resonates with them the most. An apprentice’s training is complete once their Series is identified…”

She flipped through the rest of the pages, but the book seemed to be nothing more than an introduction, with several of the basic spells indexed about a quarter into the book. She flipped through the first one, staring down at it. From the description underneath the spell name, it seemed to be a simple spell for casting light. She trailed her finger down the page, running it over the description. When cast properly, the spell would form a small orb of light that would hover over the caster’s shoulder, allowing them to see in a dark area.

It seemed like the most basic spell a person could try. Rae g around the room to see if she was being watched, but the small library was empty.

Varra
said that she had a strong Source.

She read over the instructions again to make sure that she got them right, taking a deep breath. Rae closed her eyes, slowly allowing her breathing to even out. The book said to search for the Source inside of her, and she paused, puzzling over that. Back in her own world, she had never had to call on her curse. It just appeared when she least expected it. She would catch sight of shadow out of the corner of her eye, and one of the golden auras she would see around people would fade away, replaced instead by black shadow. But she tried to reach within herself anyway, as the book described, seeing if she could find anything there.

She felt it deep within herself, a coiling mass of power that seemed to shine with its own inner light. Rae reached for it, feeling her own excitement build up as her heart pounded in time with its pulse. It was there, and it was hers, and in that one instant, she knew it as well as she knew her own name. But as soon as she reached for it, as soon as she tried to touch it, it recoiled, hiding from view and slipping out of the darkness. The sudden loss broke her out of her reverie, and she scowled in frustration, clenching her fist.  She closed her eyes again, diving down into her mind after her Source. This time, Rae reached for it quickly, grabbing a chunk of it before it could pull away and forcing the energy through the palm of her hand like the book said.

She opened her eyes, thrusting the energy out of her palm violently.

Bright light flooded out from between her fingers, blinding her. Rae let out a shout of surprise and threw herself back, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her free hand in front of her face. Her chair tilted back, and she screamed as it fell, taking her with it. She landed sprawled out on the ground, bright spots dancing across her field of vision. She took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes shut until she felt the light and the disorientation begin to fade. She stared down at her right hand. It was still glowing, but the glow slowly faded back into her skin, the light surrounding her hand beginning to dissipate.

Well. That hadn’t worked the way she intended.

The sound of applause met her ears, and her eyes narrowed, turning towards the door. Rae caught the outline of dark boots, and she immediately tensed, thinking it was the Reaper. But the man stepped forward, and as her eyes trailed upward, she realized that she had been mistaken. This was a person she had never seen before.

He was dressed in a white coat with the same blue patterns on it as Varra’s dress, but he wore dark-colored pants underneath it, as well as a pair of black boots. His hair was dark brown and cut rather messily, as if he had gone at it himself with a knife at one point or another. The man’s eyes were a bright green. He looked about her age. The man stopped in front of her, giving her a small smile.

“Impressive,” he said, holding out a gloved hand towards her. “Do you need any help?”

At first, Rae thought he was being sarcastic, but then she caught the surprised look  on his face. He was genuinely impressed. She took the offered hand reluctantly, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Rae disentangled herself from the fallen chair, stepping away from it and rubbing at a sore spot on her shoulder where she had struck the ground. She looked at the man again, and this time caught the distinct gleam of amusement in his eye. Rae’s eyes narrowed, and she quickly looked away. He may have been genuinely impressed, but it seemed like he also found her failure amusing. She brushed the dust off the simple shirt and pants that Varra had lent her, more to keep her hands busy than anything else as she tried to hide the flush on her face. She did her best to ignore him, pulling the chair back up and pushing it under the table, but she could still feel his eyes on her as she worked.

“It works better if you don’t use quite so much power,” said the mage. “But that was still pretty impressive. Normally, new mages have problems using more
power, not less
of it.”

“Is there something you want?” she asked.

“I just came down here to talk to you,” he said, “I’m Cathel Alvain, by the way. I think Varra might have mentioned me.”

Rae glanced at Cathel as she closed the book. “She might have said something about a yearmate,” she conceded.

“That was me,” said Cathel, smiling slightly. “Although I think Varra wishes it wasn't. It was…Rae Miller, wasn’t it?”

Rae shrugged. “That’s me,” she said, not turning to look at him. “What about it?”

He glanced at the door, his expression growing slightly more contemplative. Out of the corner of her eye, Rae saw him fold his arms, leaning against the side of the table. “I was curious, that’s all,” he said. “It’s not every day that someone comes down from the Daylight Realm, and you’re causing a bit of a stir.”

“I’m not gonna apologize for what I said,” said Rae. “I meant it.”

“You’re really here to look for Kaeltharin?” asked Cathel, giving her a sidelong glance. When she said nothing, she heard him shift, unfolding his arms and resting his hands on the edge of the table at either side of him. “You're chasing children's stories. The Shard's nothing more than a myth. I'm not entirely convinced it exists, and even if it does, finding it would be suicide.”

Rae resisted the urge to roll her eyes. In her case, not
finding it would be suicide. And she’d rather die at the hand of some monster than have the Reaper come for her. She had no doubt that he would, either, if it came to that. He would come gladly.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said. “It’s not like I have any other reason for being here.”

“You could stay at the Tower, with a Source like that,” said Cathel. “You’d probably make a great mage in a few years.”

“I don’t have a few years,” said Rae, scooping up the tome in her arms and placing it back on the shelf. “I only have one year to find Kaeltharin. Can you people help me with that or not?” She was beginning to get mildly irritated. The other man had warned her that this would be the case, but she hadn’t thought people would be so reluctant to even give her any information
about it. If someone asked about a legend in her world, there would always be people willing to talk, whether they believed the story or not.

Cathel watched her as she moved, his green eyes sharp. “…Maybe we would be willing to help if you provided us
with some information. Why do you want the Shard of the Star so badly? How did you hear about it in the first place? Most people don’t even know
about the existence of separate Realms.”

Rae met Cathel's eyes. He had a point, as much as she hated to admit it. She couldn't request information without offering some of her own.

“I made a deal,” she finally said, folding her arms and turning towards him. She kept her back to the shelf, putting the most distance possible between the two of them.

“With whom?” he asked.

She hesitated for only a moment. “The Grim Reaper.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he fell silent. Rae watched him, trying to gauge his reaction. His expression didn't change, he simply stared at her, open surprise on his face. The silence seemed to drag on for hours before Cathel spoke. “You mean to tell me…” he finally said. “…That you made a deal with the Thief of Souls?”

She glanced away, not wanting to see the accusation in his eyes. She couldn't escape it in his tone, though.

“Yes,” she said.

“Are you out of your mind?”

She chanced a look at him, turning her head slightly and raising her eyes to his face. The mage was staring at her openly, a look of shock and disbelief in his expression. She knew that look well. It was a look she reserved only for complete idiots.

“Only madmen make a deal with the reaper,” said Cathel.

“It’s not like I had much of a choice at the time,” said Rae, folding her arms. “It was the deal or someone's life.” 

“What were the stakes of the deal?” asked Cathel.

“My life and the life of a friend, or Kaeltharin,” she replied.

“
Firithain,”
muttered Cathel under his breath. She didn't recognize the word, but she recognized its meaning easily enough. “He’s sent you on a fool’s errand.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair and looking up at the ceiling. He looked back at her. “Did he mark you in any way?” he asked.

“Mark?” asked Rae.

“Did he use magic?” asked Cathel. “Did he touch any part of your body. You would have felt it—it would have been a biting sensation, and either extremely warm or extremely cold.”

Rae paused, thinking back to her last conversation with the Reaper. She forced herself to go through it piece by piece, sorting through the details. “He struck me,” she finally said. “With his scythe.”

“Where did it hit first?” asked Cathel.

“My arm,” said Rae. She immediately clamped a hand around the upper part of her left arm. Now that she thought about it, she remembered feeling the scythe slice into it, remembered feeling the immense cold that came afterward, right before everything went numb.

Cathel studied her, before slowly exhaling, pushing himself off the table and walking towards her. “Can I see it?” she asked.

Rae hesitated, but nodded once, slowly unwinding her fingers from around her arm and holding it up to him. He grabbed it by the wrist, pulling up her sleeve to see her upper arm. He turned her arm over, his touch surprisingly gentle as his eyes moved over the skin. After a moment, he frowned in thought, holding his hand about an inch from her arm. A shimmering silver light fell from his fingertips, and a twinge of pain surfaced in the arm he was holding. She gasped, and attempted to yank her hand away. Cathel held it firmly in place, staring down at it. 

A mark had risen to the surface of the skin. Rae ignored the pain, turning to look at it. It was a black mark, a jagged line that looked like it had been made by a curved blade.

A blade like a scythe.

Cathel released her hand, running his hand through his hair again. “A geis,” he said. “…That's fantastic.”

“What?” asked Rae, watching as the mark faded away. She rolled down her sleeve, following him as he walked away from her. “What’s a geis?”