I WAS RETURNED TO THE PRESENT suddenly, when I heard a sickly crunch from the slain beast the blond-haired man Idvith was harvesting. He had smashed the skull to remove the eyes more easily. Halvek, the darker-haired man, asked Idvith about the eyes.
“Just got the last two, here.” Idvith offered six black and crusty-dry eyes to him from a pouch. Why he needed them, I was curious. In all my days, I’d never eaten an eyeball, and hoped the chance would pass me by.
“It’s morning already?” I asked to no one in particular.
“That’s how time works, yeah,” replied Halvek. “You did an awful lot of fidgeting in your sleep. Almost kept this one awake.” He gestured toward Nebrei. “She needed her sleep more than you did.”
Her wound looked more vicious in the firelight than it did this morning. One mercenary – Idvith, the one who held me back last night – must have cleaned it while I got what little sleep I could. He was the friendlier of the two. He had a small bowl of water tinged with swirls that sparkled unnaturally that he dabbed across Nebrei’s face with a grey-tinged cloth.
Silver?
My mudbrick brain compelled me to ask. “Is that your blood?”
Nebrei replied in her usual fashion, “Of course not, I’m just borrowing it.” Her voice sounded markedly different, less nasally but no clearer. A moment later my brain caught up to my mouth I felt dumb.
“But it’s silver, that’s-”
“Are you about to say something you’ll regret?”
She caught me off guard, and I’m thankful she did. It was true I knew next to nothing about other races, and I’m happy she stopped me before I made a bigger fool of myself. I later learned “grey-blooded” was not something you’d say about a mearle if you preferred to keep your natural teeth in your mouth. I appreciated her patience. Despite her considerate culture, she could absolutely ruin me.
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
Now Halvek cut me off, “Is that tongue why you lost your arm?”
Nebrei spoke for me before I could embarrass myself further, “No. He’s not from around here. He’s uncultured.”
He added, “I thought so, being so ill-dressed for the cold of the mountains. Come to think of it, yeah, when we were carrying you, you weren’t even dressed for the cold, yet you have all your fingers. Well, the ones you still have. Got something keeping you warm?”
I didn’t know what would make for a good answer while keeping my source of innate fire secret. Thankfully, the other piped up, “I mean, he summoned a fireball outta nowhere, maybe he’s one of them elemancers? Never seen it so quick though. Maybe that’s why they took an interest in him.”
As Idvith pondered aloud, Halvek reached into the pocket where I saw him store the collected aber eyes from last night and stared at me like he was sizing me up. I met his eyes which began to glow subtly like a treecat’s reflective pupils, and although they were focused far behind me, I suddenly felt naked, like my secrets were laid out before me ready to be studied. His scrutiny made me think of Headmaster Greene trying to learn all she could with a glance. Unwillingly, my mind’s eye dragged memories of rituals of the cult to the forefront of my mind, flooding my vision with images of mutilated bodies that swirled into a fiery scene. This unexpected memory was unpleasant at best. It was over in a moment but I retained the weird feeling of invasion for a while longer, even after he finally turned away. I relaxed my muscles. I hadn’t realized I was so tense, like I was bracing my body for a punch that never came.
Halvek calmly responded, “We’ve all got our baggage.” His tone signaled an end to the subject. I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frightened. He wiped his hand on his leggings, leaving smears of black blood, then continued pulling the skin from the corpse. I shivered, hoping to shake off the weirdness.
“Where did the black beast go? Are we safe?” I asked Halvek with a quivering voice. He chuckled, saying, “It’s close by, I’d be careful.” Idvith laughed and smacked Halvek playfully on the back.
“Efrit’s gonna faint if you don’t stop scaring him! Humans are fragile.”
“You’re… not human?” I asked.
“It’s complicated,” Idvith expressed with a grin. In the short time I’d known him, I noted he had a very reassuring smile.
“Last night, you did have claws, didn’t you? Yeah, you scratched my cheek! And that wasn’t just a coat, either.”
Halvek dismissed whatever point I was getting to, “I can see the gears turning. Good job.”
“But how? There’s no school of animancy for shapeshifting.”
“It’s not animancy.”
My world grew bigger every day. There’s still so much in this world I never knew, so many concerning things…
“Is it paranimancy?”
“Some would argue it. Some do argue it. But it’s not, not exactly. We’re those lucky few who can still call upon the natural Tellustranian bond. We are gifted the anima from nature and its dead and use it for ourselves. I’m from a druidic lineage. A long time ago, Tellustraine and our patriarch made a pact. This pact allows our bloodline to take the forms of beasts.”
Nebrei sat up and Idvith tried to keep her lying down, but her curiosity was too strong. She asked with fervent intrigue, “You made a pact? How? I thought the gods were just energy, not something you can talk to.”
Gruffly, Halvek continued, “I don’t know, I wasn’t there. Though there’s tales of blessings and gifts from them.” While he spoke, he shifted the black-bloodied pouch on his belt.
“Why do people call it paranimancy then?” I asked.
“All animancy has a cost. It’s just someone else pays for ours, so naturally, people see it as theft. Murder, even. But it’s coincidentally not murder when we bring meat to their tables, or save weary travelers from being eviscerated by abers. We just reuse the corpses. Mäkri understands. He may pity us for it, but he understands. His tavern is our home. He named it after us, even with his broken Lyvikian, Tell bless him.” His face relaxed and for a second I thought I saw a smile appear on his grumpy face. “It’s the only place in Habern that we’re welcome in. The Abeyr Slaiyr- what a name.”
I couldn’t care less about his sympathies; I was stuck on his views on paranimancy. Animancy has a cost. I took Halvek’s words to heart. If they also use others’ anima, that makes it okay, right? Surely there’s some good in it.
Morbid curiosity overtook my better judgement and I looked at Nebrei’s wound. I was unfamiliar with mearle physiology, but I could discern several layers of skin that became increasingly darker and denser the deeper they were. I had noticed before that Nebrei’s skin appeared to have visible opalescent layers that shimmered strangely with her heartbeat. Luckily her eyes were unaffected. It looked like her nose took the brunt of the massive claw, which is incredible given the sheer reach of the attack. The bottom of her nose half-dangled from her face, and without pressure, it might as well have fallen off. After staring at her wound, a shiver gripped my spine and I felt dizzy. I turned away.
Corbal was still nowhere to be found. I wondered if Nebrei could scry for him, but I remembered she’s somatically trained almost exclusively. Almost. Every RASA student was trained in acumency; a vital component to all animancy. Regardless, I had the feeling she shouldn’t do much other than rest.
The mercenaries had a different idea. Idvith asked Nebrei if she felt up to walking and helped her get to her feet, steadying her sway with his arm.
Nebrei sniffed through her injury, snorting and sneezing silver blood and answered, “Enough.”
“Good, because I probably can’t carry you. You’re dense.”
“A little rude,” I exclaimed.
“No, literally dense. Where do you think mearles keep their strength? They’re basically rocks with blood.” Nebrei chuckled in amicable agreement. It was weird to see us getting along with my kidnappers-turned-rescuers.
* * *
We were half a day from the cultist mine, and that was half a day to town. We took our time to relieve some strain from Nebrei. The mercenaries didn’t seem tired at all.
“Do you have to sleep?” I asked Halvek. He stepped over a log and held his unwavering hand out to Nebrei, who accepted the help. It seemed he didn’t hear me.
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Ignored, I continued, “You don’t seem tired.”
Halvek sighed and turned to look at me, obviously annoyed, “I’m not. Halfmen never get tired, and we never sleep, or eat, or breathe.” He continued down the trail with a huff. His back curved slightly with each step.
“Don’t bathe, either,” I muttered to myself.
Idvith jogged forward to meet me, softly saying, “He’s exhausted. Leave him be. We’re all tired. You’re looking worse for wear yourself.”
“I feel fine except for an ache in my lungs. And I’m worried about Corbal.”
With a loud, brisk laugh, Idvith slapped his heavy arm on my shoulder and pulled me close. The weight of his arm nearly buckled my knees and I staggered. He gave a remark I wasn’t expecting, “You’re a good kid, worrying so much about your partner.”
I was taken aback.
“N-no, it’s not like that, he’s a professor at the Academy!”
“Right.”
Nebrei piped up, “Tell that to him!”
Outnumbered and embarrassed, I pushed Idvith’s arm off of me so I could stand upright.
It wasn’t too long a walk to Habern, but I spent the rest of it wondering if Corbal really felt the same way about me.
“Tell’s sake, finally we’re here.”
Halvek opened the door, shouting “Haijalay kompbrudni Mäkri! snärklimir maltigraineri, we’re back and thirsty!”
Mäkri waved and smiled a wide smile before pouring liquor into mugs. Nebrei whipped her head around upon hearing the exchange. “You speak Mearlish?”
“Someone’s got to around here to keep Mäkri company.”
“Huh. I didn’t think humans could keep up.”
“We’re not really human.”
“That doesn’t count.”
I took a seat where the three of us sat before. Nebrei took the drink Mäkri offered, but paused. She set it down on the counter, instead transfixed on a bottle next to the tap.
“Mäkri, what’s that bottle there?” She repeated the question in Mearlish. Mäkri said something I didn’t catch, then handed the bottle to Nebrei. She looked it over, pausing on the front label. Her tone grew angry, heated. She pointed at the label and at the now uneasy bartender. She exchanged heated words; rather, accused Mäkri who looked very confused.
Nebrei shouted at the barkeep, “You’ve traded your noble mearle honesty for some petty gold? Your compassion for some pieces of silver?”
Mäkri, taken aback at Nebrei’s hostility, cowered behind the bar and spoke faster than I thought possible. Nebrei argued with him in Mearlish. It was clear that she was furious on my behalf. She kept pointing at me, the mercenaries, the bottle, and the cowering barkeep in sequence. Halvek’s heavy boots resounded through the tavern as he marched over to the commotion with fire in his eyes, shoving chairs out of his path that grunted as they ground into the unwaxed pinewood floor.
After what I’m sure were choice words, Nebrei further shouted accusations in Lyvikian, “You don’t deserve friends if this is who you are. To sell people. To poison people.”
“Nebrei, plaidemenya, that’s enough! You will not destroy this man’s tavern. We never told him. When we returned after delivering Efrit, Mäkri showed us the paralyzing draught the cult leader Rhnull gave him. He didn’t know it was a paralyzing draught.”
“Hear reason, Nebrei,” Idvith commanded.
Halvek explained, “He can’t read Lyvikian. They told him to give this draught to the boy with the Brand. I didn’t know they paid him too. Those scumbags always hide their burned faces. He didn’t know what it was. I swear it.”
With quivering grip, Mäkri tossed his coin pouch on the floor in front of Nebrei, the force spilling two silver coins from the otherwise empty bag before holding his hands beside his head, shaking in fear and babbling some words I could understand as “take”, “sorry”, and “sadness”.
Nebrei’s face sank and she froze in place in shame when she realized she abused an innocent man. Her quickly watering eyes flitted between the sniffling mess of the barkeep, the bottle, and her hands as though looking for an answer for herself, and when she couldn’t find one, her exasperation filled the room as she barreled out of the tavern into the snow.
Halvek watched the outside door slam close but didn’t wince. He sought to console Mäkri as any good friend would. Watching him care for his dear friend made me understand why Nebrei was so heated.
“Mäkri, kompbrudni, I’m sorry. This was my fault.” He extended a hand to help the barkeep to his feet, which he took. Halvek almost lost his balance when the stocky mearle accepted his aid. Now on his feet, he stood still for just a moment before reaching around Halvek to pull him into a hug. He lowered his head and sobbed onto the halfman’s shoulder.
Idvith laid a hand on Mäkri’s back, a gesture of sincerity. Then he came toward my table. He looked me over with new disdain. With heavy breath, his voice nearly transformed into a growl-like warning, “What hot-headed company you keep. This whole thing is a mess. That mearle behind the counter – Mäkri – is more man than you’ll ever be. Mäkri said you could stay another night, straight from the goodness of his heart. But personally speaking, I’ve never been one for charity. If you’re not halfway through those woods by sunup, you’ll be buried in them. I don’t want to see either of your faces in Habern again.” The halfman stormed off to join the others near the bar. I watched him tuck his dagger back into its sheath as he left me alone at the table.
I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t rightly defend myself, or Nebrei’s outburst. I should’ve gone to find her but I had a nagging feeling I should stay put in the tavern. I didn’t know where any supplies were. I still had the dirty robe Rhnull gave me. She’d be fine, and I’d tell her about all this in the morning at the Historian’s.
While they consoled the mearle, I snuck upstairs to the room we stayed in previously and made the bed, attempting to keep to myself as much as I could. Enough attention has been drawn on my behalf. Once again, it’d been a while since I slept in a real bed, but I couldn’t sleep even with the comfort. I lay there until long after dark and listened to the dwindling voices downstairs grow quieter. Eventually the sound of silence indicated the tavern’s closing.
Then a thought occurred to me that would have been unwelcome in the previous months. I wasn’t ashamed, it was very matter of fact and, to me, neutral. Despite Mäkri’s ignorance hastening of my ascension, I still considered his betrayal a slight against me. And I pondered what I could gain from him. What I could take. After all, he owes me after causing so much strife. I laid there thinking of the ways I could harvest his anima for my own use. He helped realize the first part of my ascension; this was true. But an inkling of malice lingered, maybe festered. A slight against me would not be taken lightly. Results be damned, I would not tolerate disdain for my vessel.
Where did this sudden vanity come from? I’ve never felt this way before. Torn between who I am and who I used to consider myself, a decision was made without my conscious understanding.
I would lie in bed until I heard his heavy footsteps go to a bigger room of the inn, and once the squeaking of hinges sounded twice, I quietly left my own room to sneak into the kitchen. He was strong as Nebrei despite his age. Physically I had no advantage. However, that paralyzing draught in the kitchen might fit my needs.
From what I could recall, the bottle wasn’t moved after Mäkri closed the bar. Almost all of the liquid remained in the large bottle. They must have given me just a mouthful, and that was enough for someone my size. Pausing to listen to my surroundings after each movement, I poured the rest of it into a mug and added some honey and other ingredients I’d seen Corbal use for his teas.
I knocked on his door gently, telling him I wanted to apologize. Some time passed and I heard his footsteps approach the door. I double checked the drink with a quick whiff—it really did smell like tea. Mäkri opened the door a crack, and said some word I didn’t know. His face looked incredibly tired, to a much greater degree than only insomnia would tire one’s eyes. He was so chipper when we all arrived, but now he was defeated and down. I offered him the unassuming beverage, which he reluctantly took and looked into.
“I’m sorry for Nebrei’s actions. She didn’t know. She’s sorry. She made this tea to give you to apologize.” He sniffed the beverage and perked up slightly. “For friends?” I asked. He put on the saddest smile and nodded, sipping on the drink. He invited me into his room.
His bed was massive and the room was as well to accommodate his size. I wondered if he built this tavern himself or just repurposed this room from something else. He perked up and sipped more, broken by various interjections: “This is good!” and “Sorry tea is friends!”.
We talked for a bit, though it was mostly me pointing to things and him showing them to me. I waited until I saw his movements become stiffer to move him closer to his bed. He was confused at what he was feeling, so sitting on his bed steadied him, and soon after laid down. I suppose the dosage was enough for his size when he finally stuck in place. It took him great effort to move his eyes.
I pulled the obsidian knife from underneath my belt and steadied my elbow on Mäkri’s chest. Since my disfigurement, I had become dexterous with my left hand. The runes appeared to me from the recesses of my mind, and Agnistreya guided my hand with each gliding movement. I didn’t know what they meant, but I recognized them innately from the paranimatic rituals. The blade was old, but it sliced smoothly despite its overuse. He groaned. Mäkri’s skin was deeper than a human’s, so most lines took a few repetitions, and with each one I reached a depth that finally caused silver blood to leak from each marking and soak his bedding. I didn’t yet think about how I was going to hide this, but that didn’t matter.
His eyes were stuck in place watching me carve his body with the paranimatic runes that would gift his anima to me. He lay there silent, unmoving, and afraid.
I felt the runes’ hold drift into existence, and after a significant portion of his body was decorated, I began to feel the sensation of parallel, and I knew soon his anima would be mine.
I felt a peculiar sense of apathy; my only concern was to carry out Agnistreya’s will. If I was to eventually become greater than myself, I would do anything I needed.
My soul drank from the remainder of the barkeep’s and only after my greed was quenched did I think to flee before I was discovered. Mäkri’s bedroom was on the second floor. I couldn’t risk being seen if I made my escape through the front door. It would be locked, also, and the key wouldn’t be worth the trouble to find. That massive doorknob would be unwieldy with one hand as well. I stepped to the window and determined the distance to the ground would be safe to drop to. Feeling around the window for any kind of latch was a futile effort; the glass was hard-set into the wooden frame.
Thankfully, pine trees contained a sticky sap that burned with hardly any flame. I called my flame to the border of the window and was surprised. The placement of every spark showed increased precision. I could control it more finely and accurately than ever before. The first time I ever cast my flame – ages ago, it felt like – I summoned an uncontrollable explosion, akin to the clumsiness of learning to write. Now, I had summoned fire with the strictness of a quill with magmatic ink, bursting to life in as fine a line I could command.
If I fed my flame, I could control it to a finer degree. All I had to do was gather anima. What simple fuel for great power! On those few occasions when Corbal did mention paranimancy, he did so with repulsion, disregarding any possible exploration with as much disdain someone so polite could muster. But was it really theft if I could make better use of it? If I could sculpt the path to my ascension in blood, why wouldn’t I? I set aside my reservation for barbarism. The anima I collected strengthened my fire, hastened my driving light. It was only natural that my flame’s hunger grew.
A smell of pleasant woodfire filled the immediate air as the fire-carved edges of the window shifted and became loose. The trim of the window smoking and free, I carefully pulled the top toward me so it fell onto my chest. I tucked it under my chin while I lifted it from the bottom. A rush of cold wind came through the open hole. The glass panel leaned against the wall as I climbed over the sill to land in the snowbank below. Plumes of fluffy snow glowed in the full moonlight as I fled into the dark woods away from Habern with Corbal’s pack on my back.