“But what of the villagers? Are we in danger?” Meryl asked.
Mina removed her hand from the girl’s stomach and put it to
the girl’s face and smeared it with blood. Then, resting her hand on the girl’s
eye, she moved to pluck it out, but it exploded in her hand. Sticking her
fingers into the swill, she said, “The future is murky. Danger lies at our
doorsteps, but it will need a catalyst.”
“Like finding three dead children,” Pyre sneered.
“Yes, we’ll need to dispose of these bodies,” Gretchen said.
“Chardwick won’t stand many more unexplained disappearances, but we now know
enough to finish our preparations. Edwin won’t come this way through the Black
Keep, not when so many have died on the ledge.”
“Then how will he reach the Tomb?” Pyre asked.
“He will follow the path he knows, the tunnel where the
Morriseys fell. I believe Edwin may be ready to find the Gate.”
Edwin had already been awake and training for hours with
Herald when he took a break to chat with Walt.
“Why don’t you ever show me what you can do with your
mahr
?”
Walt asked from behind his screen. The sun hadn’t yet risen, and Walt was
dressing for the mines.
“I don’t know,” Edwin replied. “It just feels like something
that should be private.”
“Why haven’t I ever seen your
mahr
? Doesn’t it like
me?”
“Of course it does,” Edwin lied. Walt came out from behind
the screen dressed in a light coat and pants. Snow was still on the ground, but
the days were already warmer. “It’s never shown itself to anyone. I think it’s
shy.”
“Well, I’d love to meet it sometime,” Walt said as he
crossed the room to his nightstand. Walker was perched on a tree branch Walt
had found by the pass, and the stick-bug blended in perfectly. When Walt put
his arm out, Walker leapt from its branch and crawled up Walt’s arm and down
into his pocket. The stick-bug’s head was still poking out, and Walt had to pet
it a moment before it disappeared for good.
Downstairs, Sam ignored him—nothing unusual—and
soon they were both out the door. After they left, Edwin went back up to his
room, got comfortable, and picked up Herald. “So what’s on the agenda today,
Herald? Something new, I hope!”
The book yawned. “I’ll admit that you have exceeded my
meager expectations. You might not be as dumb or lazy as you look. Still, you
must learn patience before I will teach you my secrets. You’ve mastered neither
control of your mind nor your emotions.”
“Sure I have,” Edwin said, and ducked to the floor and
rolled into a handstand. Then, almost effortlessly, he lifted Herald off the
ground and let it hover motionlessly in the air in front of him. “See? I can do
loads without my spirit now, and I mastered moving things with my mind days
ago. I haven’t thrown you or yelled at you in ages… And even if I had, we don’t
have time to waste.”
Herald yawned theatrically. “I suppose you may be ready to
learn the basic elementals—an easy task for a proper Host bonded with his
mahr
.”
“Real spells?” Edwin said excitedly. “Would they be any good
against the imp?”
The folds of Herald’s leather cover rolled back, and a giant
eye appeared. Edwin wanted to pull back, disgusted; Herald had never opened his
eye and, bloodshot and revolting, Edwin wasn’t prepared for the sight of it.
Under its gaze, Edwin wobbled a moment but managed to maintain his balance.
“Why do you know of the imp?” Herald asked suspiciously.
“It tried to kill my friend,” Edwin said. “Why do
you
know about the imp?”
“Because I helped create it, of course.” Herald’s prongs stretched
out to its side, and the book flew open. The pages vibrated, and it said, “Come
down from that ridiculous handstand. I want to tell you a story.” The pages of
the book flew open, and the illusion of the one-eyed old man appeared.
Edwin did as he was told, and Herald began: “Long ago, at
the climax of the last battle between Host and man, only two Hosts remained.” A
woman appeared in a patch of trees surrounded by charred forest, with nothing
but ash as far as the eye could see. She seemed to be lit from behind, and she
had a delicate face, platinum hair, and alabaster skin that made her look
fragile, like she could be no more fearsome than a doll. “One of the Hosts was
a shape-shifter, a rare talent even among the Hosts. She could be whoever
people needed her to be.”
“I saw my mother turn into a giant lizard in my nightmare,”
Edwin said. “I could never master that spell.”
“A
dragon
,” Herald corrected. “And that was more than
a spell. It was an innate ability possessed only by a few bloodlines throughout
history… though it does sometimes skip a generation,” Herald added
disapprovingly. “Now this Host went by many names: the Mother, the Maiden, the
Crone. She always went to war as the Maiden. Men always underestimate the
Maiden.”
Edwin could sense the energy flowing through her veins even
as an illusion. “I can tell her
mahr’s
powerful just by looking at her.
It makes me feel… I don’t know…”
“Nervous? Inadequate? Like you show little potential?”
Herald offered.
Edwin shot the old man a reproachful look as tendrils of
smoke flowed into the Maiden’s hands and feet, searching for life. The wisps of
smoke explored a nearby pocket of grass, and it turned to dust. “That’s a nice
trick,” Edwin said. “If you can make any image you want, can you pick your own
form? Or do you choose to look like an old man?”
Herald’s tired eye narrowed at Edwin and his long white
beard bristled. “I have as much control over my appearance as you do yours. It
seems we’re both unlucky in that respect.”
Edwin bit his tongue, and another image appeared. A Host
with a red beard appeared alongside the woman. “He looks familiar…” Edwin said,
his voice trailing off.
“Does he?” Herald asked, a note of genuine surprise in his
voice. “That Host is the betrayer’s brother. He was a great warrior in his own
right, and it came as little surprise that he was one of the two last standing.
He and his consort were the two who cornered the betrayer, you know. When they
were done with the betrayer only his foot remained.” While Herald smiled at
this recollection, an indistinct horde of men appeared opposite the hosts, some
carrying swords, but many others carrying only hoes, rakes, or common axes. One
man had a bow, and he launched an arrow at the woman. In a flash, fire erupted
from the woman’s entire body and flew towards the men, disintegrating the
wooden arrow in its wake. Some men ducked and others tried to jump aside, but
fire engulfed them all and as the fire died away, only the two Hosts remained. The
woman’s color turned momentarily gray, but the smoke resumed its flight from
the surrounding life into her fingertips and her color quickly returned to
normal.
Edwin asked, “Why absorb the life from trees when the men
are right there for the taking?” It seemed like an obvious question, but he
didn’t like how a gold spark flashed through the spirit, like it was glad he
had the nerve to ask something so crass.
“Too many men carry bloodstones that repel the Hosts’
tendrils,” Herald explained. “In battle the Hosts did not have time to send forth
tendrils to explore for bloodstones. Better to fuel their spells by absorbing
life from the forest.”
As trees fell, the remaining canopy in the little patch of
forest thinned, and sunlight poured down from the sky. Wave after wave of men
rushed forward, but the two Hosts kept them at bay. But as grass shriveled and
turned to ash, each Host’s strength was visibly weakening.
“We’re finished,” the woman whispered, speaking for the
first time.
The man nodded gravely and whispered back, “Let’s just hope
we stalled them enough to give the others a chance.”
A band of five men approached from behind. The woman sent a
ball of fire at them so hot that their helmets melted atop their heads. Over
their screams, she said, “What chance can they have against this army?”
The man picked up the five metal corpses with a wave of his
hands and flung them at a man on horseback. “Pull out the book,” he said.
The woman reached under her cloak as archers shot a volley
of arrows in their direction. The man waved his hand, and the arrows rippled in
the air and shattered. With his other hand, he shot a white-hot bolt at the man
on horseback, and Edwin wondered who this man was as the man lifted his sword
and absorbed it almost dismissively. Having retrieved the book, the woman let
it float in the air, and the man raised his hand and let the pages fly forward.
The pages stopped decisively, and the man commanded the book to fall to the
ground, open.
“It’s you!” Edwin exclaimed, stating the obvious.
As the army rushed the two Hosts, the woman lifted her hands
and spoke an incantation, and from her body arose the black imp. Its
tendril-like hair wrapped itself protectively around the pair.
“The imp is a shield?” Edwin asked.
Herald shook his old head. “No shield would hold back this
army. The imp is her
mahr
. She tore her spirit asunder. Do you
understand what that means? It is the most advanced of incantations. Only the
most powerful, the most desperate Host with nothing to lose could ever
accomplish this.”
Edwin watched in earnest as men flung arrows, swords,
spears, and anything they could against the imp. “Hurry,” the woman said.
Kneeling to the ground, she struggled to feed the imp energy. Archers launched
arrows at the imp and foot soldiers carrying swords and spears stood at its
edge swatting at it, all to no avail. Her leg was exposed beneath her dress,
and Edwin watched helplessly as the death took hold of her foot, and then,
slowly, her leg.
The man was speaking an incantation of his own. The words
came out so quickly that Edwin couldn’t begin to follow. It was the most
complex incantation he had ever heard, and it took a level of focus and
precision that he could only dream of.
Then, as quickly as the man had started, he was finished. He
grabbed the woman’s hand, pulled her to him, and held her tight as white-hot
energy rushed towards them, flying from every inch of the distant forest that
hadn’t been consumed by war.
As white light entered Edwin’s dark room from all
directions, the two Hosts began screaming, the pain contorting their once
beautiful, delicate faces. The foot soldiers were swatting at the imp with a
fevered intensity, clearly terrified by this new spell. In an instant the Hosts
exploded into a ball of black light, and the screaming stopped. The light
swallowed the imp and the book shot up from the ground, lifted by the
explosion, and flew above the battle encased in a black orb of energy.
Edwin’s room went dark, leaving only Herald. “And that is
how the imp was created. It didn’t die with the woman. Now, if you don’t mind,
or even if you do, I think I have been more than forthcoming. Now I wish to
rest.” For good measure, Herald smacked his lips tiredly and stretched his
arms.
“No way, you’re not done yet,” Edwin said. “You promised
you’d start teaching me elementals today.”
“There’s always tomorrow,” Herald said.
“But what happened to the imp? Where’d it take you?”
“But—”
“Just a little more and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of
the day. I promise.”
“Holding a sword to a man’s neck and promising not to chop
off his head is a threat, not a trade,” Herald retorted.
“Come on Herald, don’t make this hard. I’ll send you to the
mines with Walt. Don’t think I won’t.”
Herald muttered under his breath, “Cursed mahrling making
demands of me, one who has advised the greatest Hosts who ever lived, one who
holds more knowledge than a mahrling like you could even fathom, stuck doing
your insipid bidding.” Then more loudly, the old man added, “Fine.” He snapped
his fingers, and the Black Keep appeared, only it was at its peak, flawless and
with every stone in its place. A moment later the book, encased in the black
ball of light, landed with a thud on the floor. As the imp disentangled itself
from the book, a small Host rushed over to pick it up. Holding the book tight,
he ran to a pregnant woman sitting in a simple wood chair.
“My mother…” Edwin mumbled.
She was wearing the cloak he was wearing now, and when she
took the book, Edwin saw a decisiveness that he had always wanted. The imp
hovered at her side.
And then the image faded, and Herald said, “You see, there
wasn’t much else to show. That was the end of the Hosts. With the imp, the two
Hosts’ sacrifice allowed your mother to create the Host’s Tomb—with my
help, of course. The Tomb cannot sustain itself indefinitely, and the imp continues
to feed the Tomb energy to this day.”
“But what
is
the imp?” Edwin asked.
Herald’s voice was terse. “Like I have already told you, it
was the perversion of the woman’s
mahr
. And I showed you the man’s
mahr
joining with it to create the black light that carried me back to the Black
Keep.”
“Why does the imp kill people? Surely there’s other life it
could take.”
Exasperated, Herald replied, “I can only guess. Two Hosts
purposefully separating themselves from their
mahrs
—most would
rather die. What those two did had never been done, and their creation was
unstable. Their
mahrs
, without Hosts, had bonded with each other,
becoming connected. The woman’s
mahr
was the vessel, and the man’s
mahr
commands it. His
mahr
is still out there somewhere.”
Edwin was shocked. “There’s something out there that
controls the imp?”
“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”
“But what is it? What does it look like?”
“It could be anything.” Herald shrugged. “A pendant, a piece
of clothing, a rock…”
Edwin had so many questions, but he knew Herald was running
short on patience. “How do I get to the Tomb?”
Yawning, Herald replied, “The Gate to the Host’s Tomb will
only allow a Host with a
mahr
to pass.”
Edwin felt a prickling at his leg; it was the spirit, but he
ignored it, trying to get Herald to answer as much as it would. “What about
Walt and his aunts?” The spirit began to move up his thigh and onto his belly.
“Hasn’t this been enough for one day? As you commanded I
told you what you wanted to know, oh great Host.” The old man bowed with a
great flourish.
“Yes, but just a little more,” Edwin pleaded. All the while
the prickling had become a pain that was growing impossible to ignore. “Tell me
about my friend, Walt. Why is Walt protecting me? And his twin and his aunts,
who are they?”