Year: 3045 AGD

Month: New Life

Fourth Eighthday

Siniquity

Cyrian Dreadmeir’s Estate

Jason was true to his word, and the guards had indeed seen quite the show on the last Seventhday of New Life. Unfortunately for Shade, that show had come at the price of his dignity and his physical wellbeing. He couldn’t help but laugh as he remembered the face on the healer as Jason had carried him into her office on the previous day.

As his laughter turned into a wince of pain, he remembered that even though Cyrian’s healers were exceptionally talented, they couldn’t remove the lingering effects that trauma left on a body. Well, they could, it seemed, but they said it was bad for the brain to not deal with those things as naturally as possible.

You know, most people would probably think that someone laughing after severe physical trauma is either a good sign or a sign of madness, Stewart Cantel said.

Says the dead man in my head.

Point. Cantel laughed. I am a little surprised that your overprotective subconscious didn’t come out and kill everyone yesterday, though.

“You and me both,” Shade replied aloud. He admonished himself a moment later. Even though he was alone in his room and it wasn’t quite dawn yet, he really needed to break the habit of occasionally responding to the voices in his head out loud.

He was in no true danger. The pallid one was in control the entire time.

Oh goody, we get to include it in conversations now! Cantel said.

Do not mock me, fragment of what once was.

Ouch. The former High Commander went quiet.

Get along, you two, Shade admonished. None of us are going anywhere anytime soon.

That is one reason I felt it reasonable to talk at this time. I feel that referring to me as It, That Thing, or Creature is no longer acceptable.

Shade could sense the High Commander’s interest at this development, but Stewart Cantel was staying quiet.

Alright, do you have something you would like us to refer to you as?

I do not, but I find the other ways… troublesome.

Simon would have a field day with this conversation, Cantel interjected, referring to the Arch Mage of the Protectorate, the man who had cast the Shaping that had placed a copy of the former High Commander inside Shade’s mind.

I can only imagine, Shade replied. What do you name a part of your own mind? Shade-esque? Or maybe it should be the name of the boy he had no memories of. Not-quite-Victor? He shivered for a moment as he realized that would also be a good name for himself, and he threw that whole line of thought out the window. It came to him then. Remembering the first true interaction he had with the voice, he recalled something that had been said.

Vitiosi Dei.

Throwing my words back at me. Alright. We’ll talk about this later. He approaches.

We’re going to need to have a conversation about how you know these kinds of things someday. Shade hopped out of bed and started getting ready, forgetting that he had been beaten to the brim of unconsciousness the day before. He winced as his body protested the rapid movement. It wasn’t surprising when he received no reply from Vitiosi.

He could also feel the former High Commander digging through his memories. Even though he really didn’t want to deal with this right now, he decided that he had been hiding things from Stewart Cantel long enough. Thinking back to that night, he recalled the experience he had when he connected with Vitiosi Dei. A mix of emotions rushed through his mind as Cantel viewed the moments leading up to the birth of the boy named Victor Deus, and a not insubstantial part of Shade was relieved at the knock on the door.

“Coming.”

Buckling his sword belt on, Shade approached the door and looked through the viewport. Seeing Jason and Trevor, the Half-Orc guard, he shut the viewport and unlocked the door.

“The locked door is an improvement at least, but you look like hell,” Jason said, as he moved into the room.

“Yeah, I got into a fight. You should see the other guy.”

Jason smirked and raised an eyebrow. “Indeed, then I shall have to be cautious in our training today.”

“You’re training him today after that beating you gave him yesterday?” Trevor asked from the doorway.

Shade watched Jason’s countenance darken for a moment before a wave of indignation rolled off the man, making Shade think that he was about to witness a brief moment of intense violence. The look and feeling disappeared so fast, however, that Shade briefly wondered if he had imagined it.

Turning back towards the guards with a smile, Jason replied, “Indeed. I know you gentlemen have been tasked with this boy’s protection, but your services will no longer be required today. I will notify the duty clerk when we are done.”

A series of emotions passed over Trevor’s face before he sighed in resignation. “Yes, sir.” He saluted and turned to leave, but before he had fully turned he mouthed the words Good Luck.

Thanks, Shade mouthed back.

It was in that moment that the growing bundle of emotions that was the former High Commander burst.

You are the son of Analya Theromvore and Lagelion Daystar? And a champion to three gods? You didn’t think this was worth telling me?

Victor Deus is all of those things. I’m just a boy who woke up as a slave in a mine, Shade responded.

“Alright. Let’s get on with it,” Jason said, unknowingly interrupting the conversation. “Busy day today. In some ways, it will be easier than what we had to do yesterday, and in some ways, it will be much more difficult.”

Shade barely managed to suppress the groan that desperately wanted to come out and put on a hesitant smile. “Sounds great.”

“No it doesn’t.” Jason grinned as he headed towards the hallway. “But nothing worth learning is ever easy.” He paused in the doorway. “Or painless.”

Shade gave a mental sigh at the last statement and followed his new mentor.

Do you have any idea what this means?

Shade briefly noted how unfair it was that a dead man’s memories were able to shout inside his own mind. Yeah, that I’m about to get beaten up again probably.

Not that. This is just standard introductory training that anyone thinking about joining Special Forces would have to endure. Stewart Cantel somehow became louder, to the point that Shade was having trouble hearing his own footfalls. Not only are you the half-Elven child of two extremely important people, but you are the champion of three gods. No wonder people are trying to kill you.

Well, I can’t do anything about any of that, Shade replied.

Yes you can. You can train your ass off and be ready for when they come, because they will come. Keeping secrets like this doesn’t last forever. Someone always finds out eventually, and each of these secrets that gets revealed is going to increase the danger to your person exponentially, the former High Commander explained. You are going to need every skill and trick that we can learn from these people if you want to get out of this city alive.

“Well, that’s a cheerful thought.”

“What?” Jason looked over his shoulder.

“Sorry, I was just thinking that I’m going to need to fully dedicate myself to all of this training if I want to get out of here.”

“You have no idea,” Jason replied. “But that’s a good attitude. Keep that in mind in the coming months.”

Shade felt a pulse of amusement come from the part of his mind where Stewart Cantel resided. Again, I’m glad this is making one of us happy.

Well, you can’t blame me for enjoying training, or for feeling like what is about to happen is a small slice of karma for keeping secrets from yourself.

You aren’t part of me yet.

Aren’t I?

Shade frowned. Great, now I really do feel crazy.

The feeling of amusement inside his head grew in the silence that followed.

Jason led them through a series of narrow passages that Shade hadn’t even known existed. On several occasions, they passed staff that were going about their morning duties. Shade felt a little slow as he came to the realization that he had rarely seen Cyrian’s staff moving through the halls unless they were delivering something or cleaning. These hallways were a great way for the staff to move about the estate efficiently, and even more importantly in a city like Siniquity, unseen.

They traveled for several minutes through the twisting hallways, until they ended up in a room where there was an organized pile of furniture that matched some of the furnishings found around the estate. Jason shut the door and approached the back wall, where he touched a series of stones that caused the wall to the right of where he stood to open.

“Welcome to my little haven in the sea of Dreadmeir.” Jason motioned for Shade to move into the newly revealed doorway.

Shade walked into a room that was wide open and sparsely decorated. There were two other doorways that were currently closed. Below, there was a floor of a slightly pocked red stone. Stepping down onto it, he realized that its pitted surface would allow for firm footholds. Four pillars of white marble with veins of blue and silver stood in the corners of the lower section of the floor.

“Not bad, huh?” Jason said, as the wall closed behind him.

“Not bad at all,” Shade replied. “This is where we are going to be training from now on, I assume?”

“For the most part.”

Shade nodded and began to prepare himself mentally for what he expected was about to occur.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

“Sit down,” Jason said, as he stepped down onto the red stone. “We’ll get to the fun part soon enough.”

Shade sat down on the stone floor. His curiosity at this development must have been evident on his face, because Jason grinned as he sat on the floor in front of him.

“While it is important to train your body, especially how it responds to trauma, that is only ancillary to our true goal. If you follow my instruction and give me one hundred percent, I will give you the tools to make you the second most deadly fighter on Terrazil.”

“You being the first?”

“I have been around a long time, Shade. It has been many millennia since I have met anyone who could match me in physical combat. This is not a boast; simply a fact.”

Jason said this with an air of such confidence that Shade couldn’t help but take it as an absolute truth.

Assuming we believe his boast, the question becomes what kind of man lives that long? Cantel asked.

Good question, Shade replied.

“How have you stayed alive so long?”

“It really isn’t as difficult as one might think. I have met dozens of people in my lifetime who have been able to pull off a similar feat, though not always through the same means.” Jason’s grin turned into a frown. “Sadly, it seems that few who manage to figure out the trick are the type who are happy to learn they aren’t alone. A cruel irony for the rest of us. Though of course, there are other beings who can boast similar lifespans, like the Dragons, and the Ethereals.”

“What’s it like to be immortal?”

“That is a good question. If I ever meet anything that is immortal, I’ll ask,” Jason laughed. “That is the one constant in our universe that I’ve seen. Everything dies. Even stars die eventually, and I have only heard rumors of creatures as old as even the youngest stars. Maybe there is something out there that has been around since the beginning, but I’m betting if it took enough damage or caught the wrong cold, it would die like the rest of us.”

“How much damage would you need to take to die?” Shade asked.

“Is that a personal, professional, or just an academic inquiry?” Jason sat back on his hands, more at ease than Shade would have ever expected the man to be based on their prior encounters.

Considering the question for a moment, Shade replied, “Probably a little bit of all three, but mostly academic.”

“Good.”

Before Shade could blink, Jason was on his feet, with the tip of his sword leaving a small trail of blood as it came to rest on his chin.

“I always want well-thought-out and honest answers like that,” Jason said, his smile gone. It had been replaced by a cold, impersonal gaze. “If I ever think you are lying to me, I will kill you. If you ever try to hide something from me, I will kill you. If you ever give me anything less than everything you have, I will kill you, just to save the world the effort.”

I’m not having fun anymore, Stewart Cantel said. This guy is a bona-fide sociopath.

I’m not so sure, Shade said, as he stared down the length of Jason’s sword. I think that if he meant us any harm, or hadn’t planned all of this out meticulously, Vitiosi would be going on a rampage right now.

A feeling of pride and acknowledgment flowed out from the deep recesses of Shade’s mind.

Oh, well as long as Vitiosi likes the guy, we’re all good. Cantel didn’t even try to mask his sarcasm.

The sword and the whetstone both lose pieces of themselves when they come together, but the sword is stronger because of that exchange.

What the…

“What if it isn’t my secret to share?” Shade asked, cutting off the exchange going on inside his mind.

“Well, then you had better decide if it is worth your life to keep it.” Jason slowly withdrew the sword, before wiping it on a rag and re-sheathing it.

“Alright,” Shade said. “Then there are a few things you should probably know, but I don’t know everything myself, so I’m not going to speculate.”

“Fair enough,” Jason sat back down, motioning for Shade to continue.

“The name that I was given after birth was Victor Deus. I don’t know who gave me that name, but it is what several people of the Protectorate called me.” Shade took a deep breath. “I was placed in a mine some time ago after a Blood Mage hid all of the memories of Victor away, creating me. Now here’s the crazy part.”

Jason raised an eyebrow.

“I know who I once was not only because I met some people who called me Victor, but also because I have the memories of the former High Commander of the Protectorate inside my mind.”

“You performed a graft on the High Commander? Against his will?”

“Not exactly. It was his idea.” Shade gave a nervous laugh. “And I didn’t do it; the Arch Magus did it.”

“Simon Windsbane?”

Shade nodded. “Stewart Cantel had a scroll that somehow manifested the Arch Magus, and he performed the graft.”

“That is quite the secret, kid.” Jason chuckled. “Something doesn’t make sense to me, though.”

“What?”

“Well, if you had a physical manifestation of the Arch Magus’s will there with you, why didn’t he just whisk you both back to the Protectorate, safe and sound?”

Son of a bitch, Cantel said.

“Could he have done that?” he asked both Jason and Stewart Cantel.

Cantel was doing the mental equivalent of throwing things when Jason replied. “I’m not an expert on Shaping, but with the Arch Magus’s power, I believe there is no reason that he could not have.”

He’s right. Or at least, I think he is. I don’t know a whole lot about Shaping myself, but I remember listening in on a lecture the Arch Magus gave to a young Nimus Mithriannil. An image of a man with the eyes of a Dragon sitting near a fireplace listening as the Arch Magus spoke popped into Shade’s mind as the former High Commander recalled the event. I’m not even going to pretend like I understood a tenth of it, but from what it sounded like, if a Shaper with a strong enough will were connected with another spot, it would be analogous to something he called quantum entanglement, and the two points could be bridged.

That was well-put for not understanding it, Vitiosi added. He isn’t wrong, though.

Great, so now we have to wonder why he didn’t even bother to bring up that possibility. Shade rubbed his forehead with his hand.

‘Cause he’s a conniving old bastard, Cantel groused.

“Well, he must have had his reasons.” Jason shrugged. “We’re getting off topic, though. I’m pretty sure that Cyrian knows who you used to be, or has a good idea at least, but who could have guessed that you had the former High Commander of the Protectorate in your head?”

“Are you going to tell him?” Shade asked.

Jason sat silently for some time. “No.” He shook his head. “Our arrangement doesn’t quite go that far, and as long as it doesn’t pose a direct threat to him, I don’t see why he’d need to know. It would probably just make him even more cautious with you, and he’s already coddling you.”

“He is?” Shade shifted in place and felt all of his muscles groan in protest. “Sure doesn’t feel like it today.”

Jason laughed. “You should have heard the chewing-out he gave me last night after I sent you home from the infirmary.” Jason gave a fairly decent imitation of Cyrian’s sonorous voice. “What were you thinking? He could have lost control and killed all of you. Blah blah blah.”

“He’s not wrong.” Shade frowned. “We’ve already talked about the event at the Blood Mage’s Manor. Who knows what could happen.”

“It isn’t often a council member’s estate is attacked from within and half of the guards are turned into charred piles, along with a healthy portion of the manor. At least not without the wrath of the council being brought down on someone afterward for the failed attempt.”

“It was that bad, huh?”

“Bad?” Jason grinned. “Kid, I don’t think the council has been so entertained with idle speculation for a few hundred years. If any of the others knew it was you, and that Cyrian was giving you shelter, it might cause a civil war in Siniquity.”

“Why is he doing all of this, then?”

“One thing that has always been true about the Dreadmeirs is that they have an insatiable curiosity, and a strong enough power base to not be worried about the consequences.” Jason held up his hands as if they were a scale as he spoke. “Cyrian has more curiosity than anyone I’ve ever met. He wants to know how everything works, and why. You are probably the best thing that could have ever happened to the man.”

Shade gave Jason a look of incredulity.

“Seriously.” Jason held up his first three fingers. “Scout’s honor.” A look of surprise crossed his pale features. “Haven’t said that since I was a kid.”

They both sat in silence for some time, absorbed in their own thoughts, before Jason cleared his throat.

“I had a whole lecture planned out, but it’ll have to wait until later. Let’s get loosened up, and then we can get to the training.” Jason hopped to his feet in one smooth motion. “Today we’ll just work on form and some of the basics you will need for the future, but it won’t be long until we start working on the speed. Remember, ninety-nine percent of combat is being able to hurt them before they hurt you.”

“We’ve found him,” Elyas said.

Shaylyn nearly dropped the book she had been reading as her friend rushed into the room. There was only one “him” that Elyas could be referring to.

“Where? Is he alright?” Shaylyn asked. Elyas walked over to her and put his arm on her shoulder, as if to provide emotional support, but she knew that it was mainly to stop her from jumping out of the chair.

“He seems healthy from what information we have…”

“But?” Shaylyn said as her mentor paused.

Elyas took a deep breath. “It seems his memory was somehow blocked or perhaps removed.”

Shaylyn felt her body react violently to the news, and if Elyas hadn’t been holding her down she would have burst up from the chair. The fact that he knew that would be her reaction just added to her anger. “Blocked? Removed? And yet he’s healthy?” She took a deep breath. “How much does he remember?”

“That is unclear. Our report says that he is an intelligent, well-spoken boy, who apparently has a penchant for sparring with his guards.” Elyas put on a small smile. “No doubt the influence of you and Nim peeking through.”

She felt some of the tension that had been growing inside of her release. “Well, at least he isn’t a vegetable. That means that whoever did it was incredibly skilled, or vastly underestimated my Victor.”

“If I had to guess, I would say probably a mixture of the two.” Elyas squeezed her shoulder gently before removing his hand.

“You said he sparred with his guards?” Shaylyn calmly stood and walked the ten paces her small study provided before turning around. “Whose people are these?”

Elyas sat down and watched her as she began to pace. “Cyrian Dreadmeir.”

Shaylyn paused, letting the information digest, when she noted Elyas looking at the cover of the book she had been reading.

He arched an eyebrow.

“Everything I read doesn’t has to better my knowledge or fill me with dread about what it is I’m missing or don’t understand.” The prophesies of The Pershanti were a maze of contradictions and diverging lines of thought, such as: If this thing happens, then this might happen, or more likely this will be the outcome, but there is a one in ten thousand chance that this other thing will occur instead. At times, she wondered if they really were divinely-inspired prophesies or just the ravings of a brilliant mind.

“Of course not. I enjoy a rousing adventure story every now and then, but…” He paused. “…Tantalizing Trysts in Tien’Dier…”

“Drop it.” Shaylyn used her best glare as she stepped over to the grinning Dwarf, liberating the book from his grasp. She walked over to a drawer and took out a small ribbon that she placed inside the book to save her place before locating and empty spot on the shelf for the novel.

“Cyrian,” she frowned, taking a few seconds to recall what she knew about the man. “That’s the youngest of this crop of Dreadmeirs, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is.” Elyas sat back in the chair. “From all accounts, the eldest three brothers were right bastards. Luckily for their youngest brother, they all met with untimely accidents. On the same day.”

“His work?” Shaylyn resumed her pacing.

“Hard to tell. From all accounts, he seems more of an academic, but you know there have been rumors surrounding that house for as long as they have been in power. It’s like they have a guardian angel looking over them, making sure they don’t get too lost in their own power, or research.” Elyas sighed. “By all accounts, your boy and the princess are well taken care of.”

“He has the princess too?”

“Aye,” Elyas laughed. “From his account, he’s the brave traveler who just happened to find not only Princess Tatiana of the Protectorate, but also a poor wayward boy guarding the corpse of the High Commander.”

“Stewart is dead, then.” Even after living amongst these short-lived people for so long, she still found it difficult to accept it when one of them lost their lives so early. “He hadn’t even celebrated his fiftieth year.”

“I know.” Elyas stared at the wall in front of him. “Barely old enough for a Wyrmling to leave the cave on their own. I know the choices we made were the right ones, but it is sometimes very difficult to watch them grow and die in the blink of an eye.”

They sat quietly for a time, each lost in their own thoughts of the people they had lost over their several millennia of life. Their decision to help the fledgling Protectorate by taking on the forms of the various people who were fighting back the Dracair scourge had been the right one, but it had brought them a much more intimate understanding of the lives of the shorter-lived races.

“At least he is safe.” Shaylyn let out a sigh of relief.

“For now, at least,” Elyas said, quickly continuing before she could ask what he meant. “There is some talk amongst the Elves that Analya’s failed pregnancy might not have been so unsuccessful. When they do find out, they may start connecting dots. Considering all that he’s gone through, I would normally say that it would still be incredibly difficult for them to find the boy…”

“However?”

Elyas frowned. “It seems that a certain Blood Mage has begun spreading rumors that Cyrian’s new ward is a half-Elf.”

“Yandarian.” Shaylyn found herself making a fist at her side.

Elyas nodded.

“If someone doesn’t kill that man soon, I’ll do it myself,” Shaylyn declared.

“You know,” Elyas leaned back in the chair. “Even as dangerous as it would be for us to enter our old homeland, it might be worth it to see that whelp’s face as you blast your way towards him like some vengeful Valkyrie.”