“Where’s Ninathril?” Ardwin whispered. They moved down a long hall. He’d been dragged down this path before. Ardwin took another drink from the flask Murph had given him. “Murph?”
“Father Herman keeps it with him,” Murphrey said. “They’ll be coming for you soon. We have about an hour to take care of Keya and get out of here. I have a strong alibi but must return to the monastery when news of Keya’s death arrives.” He stepped a little faster, pushing their pace. Ardwin struggled to keep up.
“What about the other sword? The rapier?” Ardwin asked.
“Keya is our magic expert,” Murph said. “She’s been studying your gear with a passion I’ve never seen before. I didn’t ask for the rapier because it left her something to occupy her mind. What does it do anyway?”
Or to give me more reason to cooperate. “You’ll see,” Ardwin said. He hoped Keya hadn’t learned the sword’s secret, either.
“Are you gonna use it on me?” Murph, rubbing the nape of his shaved neck with his right hand, spoke over his shoulder. “I know you’re not afraid of stabbing someone in the back. Mine still hurts, you know?”
Ardwin had forgotten about the attack. His cheeks flushed. “Sorry.” The medicine of the flask invigorated Ardwin. He felt stronger–safer–beneath his magical cloak. The ripped section was entirely gone. Did Keya mend it? It usually takes longer for it to mend itself. They approached the spiraling stairwell leading to the torture chamber. Ardwin’s recuperating body anticipated the pain. Her knowledge and power are beyond anything I’ve ever encountered.
Can we win?
They stopped at the top of the stairwell. Ardwin drew in the last few drops of Murph’s concoction, then tucked the empty flask into the waistband of his breeches. The liquid dulled his pain but sharpened his awareness. Murph turned to study him. “There’s only one way in and one way out. Remember: the stone is important. I’m not sure if it enhances her power or if it’s the source of her power, but I’ve seen her work before. She always wears that stone. At the very least, separating her from the stone may weaken her.”
“How do we separate them?” Ardwin asked.
“We’ll find a way,” Murph replied. He placed a hand on Ardwin’s shoulder. “There’s no hope for a surprise attack. She’ll hear us coming from a mile away. Are you ready for this?” Ardwin nodded, then followed Murph down the steps.
The enormous iron door waited, unguarded. Murphrey presented the key, turned over the lock with a loud clank, then pushed it open. Rusted hinges squealed. He marched into the torture chamber and stood at the ledge of the extended platform overlooking the room. Ardwin stepped beside him. Blood-stained chairs and tables sat uninhabited.
They wasted no time descending the elevator. Ardwin kept his dagger in hand, tucked away behind the folds of his cloak, thumb pressed against its sharpened pommel.
On the lower floor, they crossed the chamber toward the rows of bookshelves and the torturer’s study. Ardwin eyed the chair he’d sat in while witnessing elvish magic for the first time. The white-haired elf appeared, as expected, from behind a tall shelf lined with thick tomes. She moved with the practiced grace of an immortal. The tail of her red robe did not sweep the floor but glided just over the stones. “I’ve been expecting you.” She eyed Murph, then turned her gaze upon Ardwin. “Welcome back.”
“Sorry.” Murph marched forward. “No time to explain.”
The elvish woman stepped backward. She held both of her hands out before her, arms fully extended. “Halt!”
Murph didn’t listen. A flash of steel revealed a knife in his right hand. He threw it at the elf. She pushed two open hands away from her, one toward each of her assassins. Ardwin felt an icy wave of air pass over his skin. Time stood still. “I knew you were coming. What were you thinking, Brother Murphrey?” With his right arm extended, Murph stood as if he’d just released his knife. The blade itself hovered, frozen mid-turn, in the air. Ardwin tried to move but could not. “It appears you’ve chosen the path of pain,” Keya said. She moved toward the dagger and wrapped her right hand around its handle. She walked to Murph and held the dagger at his throat. “I will make sure you feel everything. Every pain imaginable.” Keya pressed the dagger’s razor edge into Murph’s throat. Blood poured forth, staining his robes. Murph stood, body trembling, slowly dying, unable to moan or cry.
Keya approached Ardwin. She pointed the dagger at his face. “And you will witness.” Keya evaporated, then reappeared beside her bookshelf. The elf stood with her arms extended, hands outstretched.
Ardwin felt his chest rise and fall as he breathed. Murph marched toward Keya. He unsheathed the throwing knife strapped to his wrist. “No!” Ardwin shouted, but it was too late. Murphrey threw the knife. Keya’s magic stopped the dagger mid-flight, Murph mid-throw, and Ardwin mid-inhale. She’s looping time? How? The elf walked around the hovering dagger and placed two hands on Murph’s cheeks. Memories are tied to the past. Perhaps she’s not manipulating time but our memories. Murphrey’s cheeks trembled under her touch. Ardwin watched as the man, frozen in time, suffered invisible torments.
When Keya finished with Murph, she came to Ardwin. “Did you think you could just walk in here and kill me?” Ardwin tried to reply, but his mouth refused to move. She lay her right hand on Ardwin’s forehead. “This will be a mild scolding compared to what Murph receives.”
Darkness overtook his vision. Then, the world remade itself before his very eyes. He lay beneath a rosebush. Soft white petals and their sweet scent soothed him. Beyond the thick brambles and many leaves of the bushes, he glimpsed a horizon of grass and sunlight. Fat feet trampled through the garden. “You can’t hide forever!” Bulge called.
Ardwin wished he were brave enough to face him. His heart raced.
Something grabbed his ankle. Ardwin looked down and found his right leg enveloped by the thorny branches of the bush he hid beneath. They coiled around his ankle and thigh, thorns digging into his flesh. Ardwin covered his mouth to stifle a scream. He’ll find me! The grasping branches of the rosebush dragged him deeper into the hedge. Ardwin clawed at the earth with both hands. The nails from his fingers peeled loose. He yelped in pain.
“What was that?” Bulge shouted. “Mercy?” He laughed.
Ardwin closed his eyes.
When they opened, he stood at the corner of an empty intersection. Bricks painted the countless colors of the sea, and the sky stood many stories high. He smelt salt in the air. Gulls soared overhead. Colonia? Ardwin watched as a squad of soldiers marched down the street with spears leaning against their shoulders. They spoke a Westernese still clinging to its old Romani roots. They’re moving with purpose. West–toward the docks.
He turned right at the intersection, following the soldiers on a downward slope of a road.
They stopped at a gatehouse. “We’re here to bolster the defense,” the squadron’s leader called to his peers atop the dock gate.
A big, ugly soldier descended the battlements down a flight of steps. “Good. We need all the bolstering we can get. Maybe you can plug the wall with your colossal head, Master Sebastian.” Guardsmen lining the walls laughed at the ugly soldier’s joke.
I never saw this, Ardwin realized.
The squadron leader approached his big, ugly counterpart and lifted his chin. “The armies of Burgundia are coming. This is no laughing matter.”
Who’s memory am I seeing? Ardwin looked at his hands. What? A gray robe of woven wool fell from his shoulders. His arms weren’t long enough for his sleeves, so two small hands hid behind the cuffs. Did she send me into Murph’s memory? Ardwin backed into an alley and threw the hood of his cloak over his head. He turned to step through the narrow passage. A tall woman stood halfway down the alley, waiting. Her hair fell in strands of white. Keya?
“Where are you going?” the elf called. Ardwin turned to run. Keya laughed. “This is my reality, fool!”
Ardwin ran but went nowhere. He fell, tumbling toward Keya.
The world went blank.
Color and shape slowly returned. He stood in the torture chamber, watching Murph walk toward Keya. The elf stood with her arms extended, and her hands outstretched. Sweat beaded on Murph’s bald head. He pulled a knife from his sleeve. Ardwin threw back his cloak and moved to throw Animiki’s Talon, but he was too slow. Murph released his knife. It flew through the chamber, striking the wall to the right of Keya. Murphrey fell to the floor, flat on his face, as if knocked unconscious by an invisible force. Keya pointed both hands at Ardwin. “How easily men are broken!” She snarled. “Yet you claim superiority!”
“I don’t claim such!” Ardwin protested. He stretched his left hand out before him. His right hand gripped Animiki’s Talon, hidden behind his back. “I don’t care about this race or that. I don’t care about this god or that. I just want to be free!”
“Such privileged words.” The elf rolled her eyes. Ardwin focused on the little silver chain between them. “What of the child starving in the street? Of the mother who dies in childbirth? What gives you the right to demand such? God has determined your purpose, brother. There’s no need for these hostilities. It’s futile. When will you learn? When will you realize I am not your enemy?”
Keya’s shoulders flinched, then her hands moved forward.
Ardwin turned his body and sliced the air with Animiki’s Talon. He gripped its handle tight and pressed his thumb into the sharpened pommel.
White light blinded him.
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A wave of cold energy passed through his body. Ardwin’s bones felt as brittle as frozen twigs. The white receded. All color drained from the world until only black remained. He floated adrift in a void. What is happening? Absolutely nothing. There’s nothing here. I can’t feel my body. He tried to speak, but even if he knew what the words meant, he could not mouth them. I seem to be trapped in a state of sleep paralysis.
Did Animiki’s lightning disrupt her spell? Did I kill myself by attacking the stone? Perhaps it was foolish to attack it with lightning?
He lay suspended in time, lost in some place outside of reality.
Perhaps it is a lack of space—the opposite of reality? But how do I get back? He drifted through the silence. Ardwin tried to move, but there was nothing to move. Frustrated, he gave into oblivion and remained impassive. He remained in this state for a period, passing in both the blink of an eye and the turn of an age. How do I break free? The void suffocated. The lack of substance—of life—threatened to drive him mad. Where am I? How do I get back? He’d almost forgotten what his world was like, with its rules and laws, its sounds and colors, its beauties and its horrors. Why would I go back? I could drift through eternity in slumber. And so he did. But his mind still questioned. Where am I? His consciousness pierced the void, the only thing that remained of him. It haunted him, even here. What happened to Murph?
He thought of the Mysterium: Rose, Skiggi, Dori. Are they safe? What Murph said makes sense to me, but the Order is unpredictable. If I make it out of here, I should warn them. No! No. I’d only put them in danger. My next move is getting out of this city. His mind drifted to Padair. I hope you’re enjoying the sun on your back and the dirt under your feet. Not even you can travel to a place like this. His mind fixated on the thought. Could you? Is it possible?
Ardwin opened his mouth to call for his friend, but there was no air to pass through his mouth. Padair?
No one appeared. No one answered. He was alone in the void.
The sound of thunder echoed off the high walls of the chamber. Ardwin rolled over onto his side. He blinked and rubbed his eyes until his vision returned. His head hummed, but Ardwin felt little pain–evidence of the flask’s potency. Murph lay ten feet away in a pile of folded gray. Keya leaned against her bookshelf, thrown back by the force of the lightning strike, body twitching and convulsing. Tendrils of black smoke drifted from her singed skull and melted flesh. Every thread of white hair had turned to ash. Where there were once fine brows and a smooth forehead, now only folds of burnt flesh swallowing a pristine silver circlet remained. Its smooth white gemstone rested, unharmed, embedded within Keya’s forehead. Thoughtless eyes stared at him. She’s dead, Ardwin confirmed. Nothing could survive that.
He crawled his way over to Murph, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up!” Murph moaned and groaned. He refused to move.
Ardwin stood. He marched past the dead elf and her rows of well-stocked bookshelves. Behind them, he came to a clean little study with a large oak desk engraved with elvish runes. The Retaliating Rapier lay on the desk, waiting for him to grab it. This is too easy. Keya knew we were coming. I’m sure she prepared a few traps. Ardwin grabbed a roll of blank parchment and tore off a strip. Then, he went to Keya. He tracked her pulse by grabbing her wrist and felt nothing. He then gathered blood from the corner of her mouth upon the strip of parchment. Ardwin took the bloody parchment and placed it on the rapier’s handle. He watched as the blood evaporated. The parchment burst into flames.
Ardwin’s belly swirled as he reached out and took the sword. He lifted it from the desk. Nothing happened.
Ardwin tucked the Retaliating Rapier through his belt, then tossed his magic cloak to conceal it. Now I just need Ninathril. Murph believes Herman keeps the sword on him. But I know he wouldn’t take it to the monastery. The best place to look is here, where he keeps everything else. Murph knows more than he’s letting on.
Murphrey still lay on the floor, but he stirred. Ardwin knelt beside him. “I have the sword. Let’s go.”
The bald monk rolled over onto his back. “We didn’t come for your sword,” Murph said. “Where’s Keya? Is she dead? Is it done?” He sat up and looked around the room with tired eyes. They lingered upon the elf and her scorched head. A glint of excitement lightened Murph’s eyes.
“She had no pulse when I checked,” Ardwin said. “Can you move?”
“You actually did it.” Murph laughed. “And now the tables have turned. You saved me.” He struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth. “She got me good but not good enough. I can move. Let’s go.”
“You caught the brunt of her wrath,” Ardwin said as they climbed into the elevator. It moved slowly, chains clanking and popping. “Here. Take this.” He unsheathed the Retaliating Rapier and handed it to Murphrey. “I want it back when we part ways.” Murph took the rapier and held its thin blade before his face. “It’s sharp. Don’t hurt yourself.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Murph assured. “How does its magic work?”
“You’re smart,” Ardwin said as they exited the elevator. “You’ll figure it out.” He offered a shoulder for Murph to lean on, tugging him up the steps. His old friend was exhausted, yet it all happened so fast. Ardwin replayed the events again and again, trying to understand what, exactly, had just occurred. Why didn’t she drain me, too? Can she only focus on one victim at a time? She sent me into Murph’s memories rather than my own. And touched Murph first. Maybe she couldn’t access my memories until she touched me?
Then how did she loop time?
Leaving the stairwell, the pair wound through the halls. Murph pointed out an alcove housing a drainage pipe. “Here,” he whispered. Murphrey walked up to the drainpipe and grabbed a grate of interwoven iron. “Help.” Ardwin grabbed ahold, too, and together, they tugged the iron grate free from the wall. A circular hole remained. Murphrey crawled through the hole, crouching low, then turned and waved his right hand at Ardwin.
Ardwin looked down at his old friend. “Where’s Ninathril?”
“With Herman,” Murph said. “We need to move. Come on. Let’s go.” Ardwin did not move. Murphrey rolled his head and eyes with it, then glared at Ardwin. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not leaving the city without it,” Ardwin said. “Is the sword here?”
Murph looked away. He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. When his gaze returned, his eyes had softened. “You know, part of what I said to you the other day was the truth. You think you’re something special. Well, maybe you are, brother, but that’s between you and god. I won’t stop you.” He sighed. “The sword is in the Abbot’s carriage. There’s a hidden compartment beneath its seat. Getting to the carriage could be tricky. It’s kept in the monastery stable, guarded night and day.”
“Where the Imperial Exemplar might discover it?” Ardwin questioned.
“The Imperial Exemplar spends most of his time courting the Duke and the dwarven bankers,” Murph said. “That’s why he’s lost the love of his disciples. He doesn’t have a single spy who doesn’t also work for Herman. This place is a snake nest, Ardwin. Get the sword and get out of town.” He chuckled. “Leave the continent. The Order will hunt you to the end of the earth.”
“I know.” Ardwin crossed his arms.
“Well,” Murph said. “Either way, you won’t find the sword down here. Follow me. I can lead you through the sewers.”
Ardwin shook his head. He followed Murph into a dark subterranean tunnel. They crawled over slick rocks and thick mud, tumbling down the steep slope. The ground leveled out in a cavern lined with pointed stalactites and stalagmites, reaching for one another, forming natural columns and walls. The chamber led into a crevasse, which they squeezed through and exited onto a rock shelf overhanging a trickling stream. Across the stream, hand-laid bricks and mortar formed the foundations of a large drainage pipe. Light spilled from the pipe, as well as a dark green substance. Five iron bars stood within the mouth of the pipe but were wide enough to pass between with little issue.
The pair marched down a walkway beside a stream of foul-smelling water. “The sewers of Ottoburg are not as complex as Alexandria’s,” Murph said. “They’re better built.”
They followed the river of sewage, walking against its current until they came to a large cylindrical chamber with a cavernous roof. Three gurgling streams of filth joined a swirling current around a circular platform raised in the center of the room. Three bridges led to three paths running next to each little river. “Left will take us toward the Twinstone River and the docks,” Murph said as he crossed the bridge before them. “Right will take us towards the heart of the city. That’s our path.”
“How many guards are in the stable?” Ardwin asked. He stepped onto the circular platform. He grabbed Murph’s sleeve and pulled until the man stopped. “Can you help me get the sword? It’s important to me, Murph.”
“My mission is done,” Murph said.
Ardwin peered into his eyes, searching for understanding. “Keya’s death won’t stop an ambitious man like Herman. It’s merely a setback. He’ll use Ninathril to gain leverage with the Duke. Or…” he raised his right hand to his chin. “Herman might offer it to the Duke of Chios, who is the heir of Arthur, in a gesture of respect and good faith. It may lay the groundwork for a treaty and peace. Something the Duke of Ottoburg desperately wants. Everyone would hail Abbot Herman as a hero for brokering the treaty. That would certainly help him outshine the Imperial Exemplar.”
“He could,” Murph said. Ardwin watched his thin brows furrow. Thoughts swirled behind his eyes.
“Help me get the sword,” Ardwin demanded.
Murph ground his teeth. His head tilted to the left, then the right. “I can’t. The High Exemplar needs me in the monastery. I’m his eyes and ears.”
“You assassinated Keya, which was extremely risky,” Ardwin pointed out. “This is just a minor theft.”
Murph chuckled. “No. Keya’s death was necessary. This is a problem of your making. Sometimes, you have to know when to quit the field, Ardwin. It’s just not worth it. If I were in your shoes, I’d leave the sword and all the problems it brings behind. Leave the continent—go South. Let the Order handle the sword.”
“Let you handle it?” Ardwin asked.
“Why not?” Murph shrugged. Then, he whipped the Retaliating Rapier through the air, pointing its tip firmly in Ardwin’s chest. Ardwin raised his hands. “I’ve been stationed in Ottoburg for eight years. They’ve made me do many things I’m not proud of—the elf and Abbot Herman—evil things. I did my duty, though. I never abandoned my post, unlike you.” Murph’s eyes narrowed. “I need Ninathril to get back home, Ardwin. Bernard will accept my return if I bring him the sword.”
“You used me to accomplish your mission to turn on me now? So that you can take Ninathril back to Alexandria and lick the High Exemplars’ boots?” The rapier’s point scraped the front of his cloak. “Is that your plan?” Ardwin cocked his head. “You saw what I’m capable of. The stories are all true, Murph.” Ardwin watched the man before him momentarily turn into a frightened child as the fire in his eyes dimmed. “That sword belongs to someone else.” Ardwin lowered his hands. “I helped you accomplish your mission. Will you help me accomplish mine? This isn’t a game or a trick. I’m asking as a friend.”
“You won't let it go, will you?” Murph’s eyes projected the death glare of a hungry predator.
“On guard!” Ardwin shouted.
The Retaliating Rapier ripped itself from Murph’s hands and whizzed through the air. Murph ducked low to avoid a swooping slice. The rapier flew higher and higher, then dove at Murph.
Ardwin drew his dagger and closed the distance. “Enough!” He cried. His voice echoed. The rapier returned to its sheath, tucked into his belt. Animiki’s Talon waited beneath Murph’s throat. “I need it, too.” He backed away. “Don’t make me kill you, Murph. Stay out of my way. Leave while you have a life left to live.”
Murph raised his chin. “This is the life I’ve chosen. The Order is my family.”
This is what it comes down to? Our memories, two currents flowing through time, destined to collide. Ardwin sheathed his dagger. “Yet, here you are, longing for home and the sweet scent of summer roses.” He stepped backward across the bridge. “Goodbye, Murph.” He turned towards the city’s heart and the Monastery of Ottoburg, expecting a throwing knife to land firmly in his back. It never came. The dreams of other men built our lives. Their dreams have always pushed us around. Now, when he can free himself from their wake, he wades back into it.
And because of that, one dream must win, and one must die.
When will I wake up?