Chapter Forty

The Nature of Omission

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The world beyond the deepwoods was fascinating. Terrifying, but captivating all the same. Out here, the possibilities seemed endless and the curious part of her, the part she had sacrificed in order to provide for those closest to her over the years, wanted to explore each and every new facet.

From time to time, Inerys would hold the drake’s earthen core up to the light of the moon as they walked, admiring the way the dark, sparkling dust swirled about inside. She wondered if Cydan's was similar in appearance, given the shared element. Would Rhydian’s contain flame rather than the silty essence she saw now or was it merely a different color? What of Ayduin’s? Or that of Ephaxus with his metallic affinity?

Spirits, what would her own look like?

“So, all spiritual cores bear some sort of color?” She asked, sparing Ayduin a glance as they picked their way down a fern-dappled hill.

They had sent the wyverns on ahead with the bulk of their prize, having opted to return on foot since there would be no training of any other sort tonight.

“When they settle, yes. But when and how is subject to circumstance.”

“Such as?”

“What essence domain you choose when you achieve your forth ascension and when you open the transversal meridian between your mental and spiritual core,” she said, “Or if you manifest an affinity before then. It’s not entirely uncommon, but cases tend to be few and far between among the general populace, regardless of country.”

“You’re one of the exceptions, then?” Inerys asked, recalling what she’d told her.

Ayduin brought one of her hands up, ice creeping along the length of her fingers to solidify into long, crystalline claws, “Mine has been a light blue for as long as I can remember.”

A part of her envied the ease in which the woman wielded her rysk. It was a tool, a natural extension she called upon through thought and feeling. Inerys’ own had only ever sought to kill her.

“Does an affinity mean your domain is already decided?” She asked.

She nodded, “There’s no changing your path once your spirit has been aligned. Most people choose a domain that will benefit their trade in some form or fashion. Farmers and herbalists will either settle for earth or wood while a blacksmith or artificer might choose fire or metal.”

“I suppose that makes sense. I imagine others decide based on what their gut tells them?”

“Or whatever they fancy most when the time comes. Every now and again, some idealistic twit decides he’s going to be the next sovereign and chooses whatever path he thinks will grant him the most power or prestige.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound wise.”

“It isn’t, but brash fools abound in every aspect of life. Invokers are no exception.”

“Invokers?”

“That’s the technical term for us. For those of us who develop our path beyond its infancy, that is,” she said, dismissing her ice, “Those who decide theirs for the wrong reasons rarely make it far. Calling them invokers at all is honestly laughable. Implies a level of dedication that often doesn’t exist. They’re the sort to boast about success without following through with what it actually takes to achieve it.”

Inerys couldn’t help but think of those purebloods she and her friends had brawled with in the tavern– imposters with dreams of glory and wealth. It was a wonder they had survived at all when everything from their equipment to their horses was ill-suited to the dangers of the forest. Arrogance would only get you so far and even luck ran out eventually. Her’s certainly had and she’d practically grown up in those woods.

She bit her lip as she finally stowed the core away in her satchel, “Do you think I could be an invoker?”

“You actually want my opinion on the matter?”

“You’re the only one I trust to tell me the truth rather than what I want to hear.”

Ayduin drew to a halt to study her. The moment didn’t last longer than a heartbeat, but Inerys found herself fidgeting nonetheless under the woman’s attention. Her eyes always had a way of stripping her bare, as if she could see clear through her to the truth through observation alone.

“Fair enough.”

Inerys took a slow, exaggerated step sideways to get them moving again, hands clutching at her satchel strap to keep from fussing.

“So . . . what do you think?”

“You’ve come this far, haven’t you? If you can crawl back from the brink of death and forge yourself anew through blood and sweat and sheer force of will, you’ll have no trouble cultivating a path.”

“Really?” She asked, taken aback, “You’re . . . serious?”

She hadn’t expected that.

“You did say you trusted me. Are you having second thoughts?”

“No, no, you’ve just surprised me.”

“Because that sounded awfully close to admiration?”

“Well, yes. It did, oddly enough.”

Ayduin chuckled, “I might not be an avid supporter of you, but I can recognize grit when I see it.”

“And here I thought you resented my existence.”

“Part of me does,” she admitted, "but at this point, that has more to do with me and my own troubles than it does with you. Our flight is my family. You were a threat. To a degree, you still are, but I’m willing to give you a chance. If . . .if Ephaxus can come to see you as a friend, perhaps I can too. Just don’t expect things to change overnight. All right?”

“I won’t,” she promised.

The woman gave a small nod of appreciation, though Inerys sensed she was eager to shift the focus of their conversation because she asked, “Are your shackles still holding?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“So far. I’m fairly certain I’m down to the last one, though.”

“How can you tell?”

Inerys pursed her lips and subconsciously began rubbing at the steady pressure in her sternum.

“Ever since my accident, I’ve felt like there’s a storm in my chest. A violent one. In the beginning, the shackles were a sort of castle. The storm was still there, still raging, but I was safe within the stone walls. Little by little though, they’ve been worn down and now, it feels like there’s little more than a barn standing between me and that tempest. It’s only a matter of time before it gives way and when it does, I’m afraid I might blow away.”

Ayduin’s brow drew in concern, her lips thin.

“Have you told Sorisanna? She’s prepared to set more if you need.”

“I know she is, I just haven’t had the chance to speak with her about it. Everything happened so quickly after my advancement. I will once we’re back at camp, provided she’s not preoccupied with Rhydian.”

“In all fairness, she’s likely drugged him. The man doesn’t know when to quit.”

“He doesn’t, does he?” She sighed.

“I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with that particular quality of his.”

“I can see why.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Sorisanna will have him back on his feet in a few days. He just needs rest.”

“I’ll do my best not to. He scared me, that’s all,” she said, though she’d scared herself as well. She was the reason for his current condition, after all.

“We’re all a bit rattled, Inerys. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t,” Ayduin said, “That being said, I am acting command in his absence. When we get back, you best march yourself straight to the sage’s tent. You’re bound to get an earful from her, but she’ll be able to buy you more time to prepare for the arrival of your storm.”

“I can’t say I’m eager for the lecture, but I’ll see her as soon as we get back.”

“Good.”

For a time, the pair travelled in silence. It was not awkward, but contemplative. After all that had transpired, Inerys needed time to process and knew she was not the only one. The walk, while long, helped clear her head. She saw things with more clarity and knew a conversation with Rhydian was also in her future.

In her addled state, she feared she’d jumped to too many conclusions. It was hard not to, especially with the knowledge of his own reservations on the matter. She tried, time and again, to understand why he had withheld the details. The odds had been stacked against her for months now, perhaps he thought he was protecting her from the additional stress? Preserving her drive to continue on with the hope she might one day return home? Logically, she knew he had a reason. Likely a good one, but she couldn’t help but wish he had been more forthright from the start.

A lie born of omission was still a lie.

Still hurt.

“What do you make of this Warden business?” She asked, unable to keep her spiralling thoughts wholly to herself any longer.

She caught the slight stiffening of Ayduin’s shoulders, but made no mention of it.

“Honestly? It’s a mess. At this point, I’m not sure what to think. The woman’s a bloody sovereign.”

Thanks to the context she’d gained from Rhydian’s memory, the term wasn’t entirely new. Inerys hummed absently, mulling over the implications of a meeting with a woman of her station. What would someone like the Wardeness want with her?

“I’m surprised Rhydian mentioned it so soon after your little incident. Was that the disagreement you mentioned?” Ayduin asked.

“It was, but he didn’t exactly tell me.”

Outrage suddenly lined the woman’s eyes as she looked to her.

“Skies, I told the others to keep their mouths shut. Who was it?”

“No one,” Inerys assured, “They kept their promise. No one else breathed a word.”

“Then I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Well, technically Rhydian did. In a way. Or . . .his memories did? I’m not entirely sure. It’s complicated.”

“Then uncomplicate it.”

Inerys blew out a breath, trying to decide how best to explain her latest oddity.

“While I was asleep, I witnessed what think were memories. It’s all a bit muddled, but it’s like I was in his head. I saw myself in the deepwoods when he found me, saw him kill that other woman. You were there too. There were other images, fragments of conversation. I saw the Wardeness though. I know Rhydian doesn’t trust her. If I’m honest, I don’t think any of you do.”

Ayduin took her by the upper arm and pulled her to a stop. Her hold wasn’t enough to hurt, but Inerys wouldn’t be able to pull away without effort.

“Wait, you’re telling me you heard what they discussed? How?”

“I wish I knew,” she said.

The woman’s jaw flexed in some apparent deliberation, but she sighed, “You and everyone else, I’m sure. Fine. I won’t lie and tell you I’m ready to trust the woman outright, but I’m beginning to understand her interest in you. They were memories? You’re certain of it?”

Slowly, Inerys nodded.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Ever since my ascension.”

“A new development, then. All right. Have you seen anyone else’s? Ephaxus’? Mine? Sorisanna’s?”

She shook her head, “No. All I saw were Rhydian’s.”

“You’re sure?”

No.

“I wouldn’t lie about this,” she promised.

“Does he know?”

“He and Cydan both. They found me while I was . . .thrashing, apparently. They thought I was having a nightmare.”

“Sounds like a bloody nightmare,” she muttered, “Why only his? It doesn’t make any sense.”

She paused.

“Unless . . .”

Inerys held her breath, wondering if the woman had suddenly come to the same conclusion she had.

“Did something similar happen when you drank any of the other blood?”

She hesitated, but nodded.

“Not to the same degree, but ever since I woke up, I’ve been getting these flashes. They're brief and while there are thoughts, they’re simple. I’m on all fours, grazing or stripping bark and, well, I’m sure you can guess the rest.”

“Unfortunately, I can. Skies, you’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

She rubbed at her brow, mindful of her clawed fingertips, “I’m about as thrilled about them as you are.”

Ayduin huffed a laugh and released her in order to cross one arm over her middle and raise her opposite hand to her chin in thought.

“Mm. Whatever this ability is, it seems to have come about as a result of your advancement. Can’t say I’ve ever heard of someone developing something like this, but then again, you’ve been a damn anomaly from the start.”

“You would know more about this sort of thing than I do.”

“Which, unfortunately for us both, is nothing. Our only real hope lies with the Wardness. She’s been a part of this from the beginning. She has to know something.”

“I don’t intend on holding my breath.”

“Neither will I, but . . . know that we’re trying. If nothing else, trust in the fact Rhydian will do everything in his power to keep you safe. You might be pissed, and I get that, but he has your best interests at heart. We all do, even if some of us are more prickly about these sorts of things.”

The hint of a smile found Inerys’ lips.

“Thanks, Ayduin.”

Her eyes narrowed, “Don’t mistake this for me being soft, yeah?”

She had to bite back a snicker as she raised her hands in an effort to placate her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

That actually earned her a scowl.

“You’ve been spending far too much time with Cydan.”