“I see the backs of my eyelids,” Jack said. Lesh laughed at that, but it was a good-natured genuine laugh.

Orvalys held up a finger. “Sorry to interrupt, but that wasn’t offensive right?”

“No,” Lesh said. “I asked him what he saw and he told me. It was a precise answer.”

They were on a large hammock-like structure woven out of rough rope. It was thick and tough, but not tough enough that Jack fully trusted all three of them sitting there cross-legged on it. The hammock was suspended between three large trunks which stretched out almost perpendicular to the ground, the ground which also happened to be hundreds of feet below them. The trees were also sticking out the side of a cliff.

“Trust me,” Lesh said. “It’s a good start.”

Orvalys and Jack had agreed to follow Lesh through the woods until they came to what they thought was a small hill. As they journeyed through the forest, they soon discovered that the gentle rise they had been climbing wasn’t so gentle on the other side. Lesh had apparently crafted various dwellings on the side of the black-rock cliffs, some of them including the branches of trees like this one.

Platforms and ropes covered most of the clifftop and Jack would have been impressed if he hadn’t also immediately known they were going to sit down on the place which also looked the most precarious.

When they first saw it Orvalys turned to Jack and said, “I have a built-in parachute-like apparatus.” When Jack looked back at him he continued, “I could sense your heart rate was rising. I wanted you to know that in case it was worry for my own well-being.”

Jack just looked at him a moment. “Your own well-being?”

The homunculus looked over the edge and said. “I’m the one sitting on the end after all.”

Lesh laughed at them again. Jack had already noticed that was something he did a lot.

“I’m sorry,” Orvalys said. “I’m interrupting, aren’t I? I suppose I’m a little fascinated by it all. I’ve just never witnessed a training quite like this before.”

“Is it training?” Jack asked, turning to Lesh. “Because so far all we’ve done is spend ten minutes finding our footing on this thing and you laughed at us the whole time.”

“Are you angry?” Lesh asked.

“I’m not angry—” Jack said.

“I just want to get going,” Lesh said in perfect sync with him.

Jack stopped and let out an exasperated breath.

“It’s fascinating when he does that,” Orvalys said.

“Why do you want to get going?” Lesyth asked. “What’s the reason behind it? Why rush? Why go now instead of later? What if later is a better time, or the time you were always meant to go because it was the time you always went?”

Jack tried to think about that for a second before giving up. “Are you going to—”

“Say everything at the same time I do?” Lesh said to him. The old man laughed once again. “No, I just do that to remind you of the potential of these abilities. You’ll need them for what’s coming.”

“But you won’t tell us what that is?” Jack asked.

“I would if I did. But I don’t, so I won’t,” Lesh said before slapping Jack entirely too hard on the shoulder. It made him fly in the direction of the edge and he instinctively reached out and clung to the net.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “Got it. Ok, well. Teach me then.”

“I’m not teaching,” Lesh said. “You’re learning. I’m just here to make sure you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jack asked, testing his safety in letting go of the net, but watching the old man suspiciously. “Can you speak in anything besides riddles?” The last word he said trembling because a breeze swayed the hammock ever so slightly and he had to grab hold again.

“Each person drinks differently,” Lesh explained. “The way I drink is not the way you will. When you think of something, is there a voice or not, generally speaking?”

“An inner monologue?” Orvalys asked.

“Yeah no,” Jack said. “I guess it’s mostly just images. Or, not even that. Ideas really. Just ideas.”

“You can probably expect the Athe to come like that,” Lesh said. “Some people see it, some feel it, some read it, write it, speak it, sing it. Some hear and some merely think.”

“Yeah ok,” Jack said, experimenting with letting go of the net again. “And how do I know if it’s the Athe?”

“You will know,” Lesh said. Smiling. “It will be undoubtable.”

Jack looked down again. It was a mistake. “Not feeling particularly undoubtable right now.” The wind whistled for a moment as no one spoke. The sun had already passed its highest point and was beginning to sink toward the horizon. If they stayed for a long time, the wind would likely get much colder and maybe stronger—neither were things Jack was excited for.

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

“You wish to find a pass over the mountains?” Lesh said finally. “So that you may travel to a village outside of Ullulia and find something there?”

“Yes,” Orvalys answered.

“Where is the pass?” Lesh asked.

“I—” Jack looked from himself to Orv. “Are you asking me?”

“Where is the pass?” Lesh asked again. “The one you will end up taking?”

“Um… No idea.”

Lesh nodded, almost to himself, and then suddenly kicked Jack square in the chest. He rolled backward and out of the hammock. He scrambled and caught hold of one of the ropes before most of his body swung over the edge. Panic flooded him and the icy heat of adrenaline flooded his veins. He garbled some sort of expletive as he fumbled for a better grip.

Lesh came swiftly but calmly to the side of the hammock and reached out his hand.

“Tell me the name of the pass.”

“What the—I don’t know!” Jack scrambled for something better to hold onto. The rope was dusty and it was old and hard and polished. There was very little give and he didn’t like the sensation of it slipping in his sweaty hands. “Freaking tojink old man!”

Lesh laughed again. Orvalys appeared at the edge of the net as well. “Interesting teaching style, but could I suggest something a little less hands-on?”

The old man held a hand out to silence him before leaning in close and looking Jack right in the eyes.

“Where is the pass?”

“In the mountains!” Jack said. “Right? Somewhere in the mountains?”

Lesh jumped up and down, shaking Jack’s grip. His hands were slipping.

“Where’s the pass? Tell me where’s the pass?”

“I—I—” Jack’s hands slipped completely, and just as they did he said, “Red houses!”

In one fluid move, Lesh reached down, caught ahold of Jack’s clothes, and hauled him back into the hammock. Jack lay there, discombobulated and breathing deeply.

“You tried to kill me!” he said between gulps of air. “You! I—I almost died!”

“Yes, almost,” Lesh said. “You almost died.”

Jack wrapped his arms around the ropes as many times as he could. “And you think that’s ok, to try and kill me?!”

“I didn’t try to kill you,” Lesh said calmly. “I tried to almost kill you. And in that, I didn’t try, I succeeded.”

“Cause you knew what was going to happen huh?” Jack said, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his words. Lesh just laughed at him again.

Tojink laughing old man.

“Everyone needs something different,” Lesh said. “For you, it happened to be a particularly powerful adrenaline spike.”

“Ok so, turns out I personally don’t know if I needed that,” Jack said. “I don’t have a built-in parachute.”

“Of course not,” Lesh said. “If you did it would have never worked.”

“What do you mean worked?” Jack asked, his breathing was beginning to calm but he didn’t dare to let go.

“Red houses,” Lesh said. “Why did you say that?”

“No idea,” Jack said. “I was just trying to—”

“Livrik,” Lesh said. With one powerful hand, he picked Jack up and carried him over to the edge of the cliff. When he set him down on shaky legs Jack sunk to the earth and began to crawl away from the heights.

Orvalys followed close behind. “Excuse me, but what’s Livrik?” he asked.

“It’s a small village northwest of here,” Lesh replied. He pointed to where the sun was setting, painting the clouds of the Athes brilliant hues of oranges and purples. “It’s the city guarding the southern end of the ancient pass, and all the buildings are red.”

----------------------------------------

The assassin had only used knives—old-fashioned ones too.

The man had struck quickly, and if Pyrn hadn’t realized the messenger was there to kill him only a moment before, he would have been successful in his assassination attempt.

The general was expecting a glitzer of some sort, so when the man had sprung forward with strangely shaped blades in each hand, Pyrn had only a moment to deflect the assault and use the force of the assailant’s attack to throw him into the table behind them. The assassin had quickly redirected into another attack though, and for a few adrenaline-fueled seconds it was all Pyrn could do to keep the blades from his throat.

He was cut fairly badly during that second lunge. Blood flowed freely down his left forearm as he batted the attacks away. A part of the general’s brain immediately appreciated how sharp the knives were. If they even so much as nicked him anywhere vital the blood loss alone would incapacitate him quickly.

The assassin lunged again, and this time Pyrn had to fully duck out of the way. One of the blades came dangerously close to his face, but he was able to get around it and land a heavy punch to the ribs of the attacker. He leaned away from the anticipated reactionary swing and landed another punch with his stronger arm. The man stumbled backward, dropping one of his knives.

Pyrn picked it up and held it carefully toward the messenger.

“This is where you tell me who you are, and who sent you,” he said plainly. There was no threat in his words, just honestly. “You do that and I’ll make sure you survive.”

It was only the briefest action, but the assassin’s eyes flashed toward the cut on Pyrn’s arm. It immediately registered.

I’m a fool.

The general looked down to see an ugly green hue coloring his flowing blood. The flesh around the cut was already bruising—it was poison and it was acting fast.

The moment he looked down the assassin lunged forward. Pyrn ducked to the side and swung with his knife. The man jumped away from it, and the general took advantage of the moment of imbalance and kicked the attacker away from him before diving backward under the table.

The assassin righted himself and attacked again, but suddenly three shots of glitz exploded through the table. Pyrn rolled out from underneath just in time to see the man fleeing. Without a second thought, he lobbed the knife, but the assailant seemed to have made it through the ornamental door flap of the interior tent in time.

Pyrn suppressed the obvious urge to race after the man. He forced his thoughts to turn as logical as possible.

The poison will kill me. Pyrn breathed as slowly and deeply as he could. Slow. Slow. Slow my heart. My guards won’t hear if I call. I sent them away myself. In and out, in and out. If anyone in The Senate is involved I’m doomed anyway.

He lowered himself onto the desk and flexed his arm. There was stiffness already spreading. He didn’t have much time. He clamped his other hand as tightly as possible just above the bicep. The man was well-trained, this wasn’t merely an assassin sent by Yarvan rebels. This individual had been trained in a way almost completely unknown in the South. In fact, it was something he had never seen in person—something he had only heard whispered by grizzled veterans who had contact with a strange nation across the sea to the north.

Fifteen minutes at the most. I have fifteen minutes. Maybe ten. Breathe. Breathe.

There wasn’t any time to curse himself for foolishness, to internally reprimand the personal feelings for Commander Genys that had led him to be uncautious. It was regrettable but there was only what he would do now.

And he didn’t have many options.