Chapter 24 – Broken Bindings
“I’m worried about you, Zull,” Zaphyr said.
“Why?” her brother asked, although he already knew the answer.
“The things you’ve been learning from Sangue…they are what she learned in turn from her father. Evil, twisted things,” Zaphyr said. “Things contrary to everything Gerok taught us. Contrary to the true purpose of hemomancy.”
Zull laughed, but there was tension and stress evident in how his voice rose into nearly becoming a squeak. “You’re overreacting, Zaphyr. All I’m asking her to teach me is the making and breaking of blood bindings. There is nothing inherently evil or dangerous about those. Even Gerok used them, on occasion.”
“Gerok used them for healing, Zull,” Zaphyr protested. “And you and I both know that is far from what you intend to use them for.”
“You don’t know that,” Zull said, but he refused to meet Zaphyr’s gaze as he spoke.
In the days since the twins had been rescued from Aldus and his daughter, time had slipped by in a frenzied blur for the twins. They, along with Sir Kyr, Vard, and the rest had ridden to the edge of the forest, along with a larger caravan of Vyle's men. Sir Kyr had had his shattered sword replaced once more, this time with a specially tempered blade, far sturdier than normal, which would be capable of injuring hemomantic abominations like himself or Sangue. After reaching the edge of the forest, they had made their way along one of the many imperial highways, stopping to rest in towns whenever they passed by one, or sleeping under the stars whenever they could not. Three of Vyle’s men, all experienced and capable fighters, named Henriks, Shaw, and Velen, had chosen to stay with them on their journey. They, along with Sangue, accompanied them as they made their way across the empire. At first, Vyle and Sir Kyr had considered sending Sangue back with the rest of the bandits to Ar Goll Forest, but, because of her strength and cunning, they ultimately decided that they would be better off keeping her under their direct watch, so she could not attempt an escape.
From the first day of their travels, Zull had purposely sought her out, and had pressured her to teach him everything she knew about the working of blood bindings. While not a hemomancer herself, the assistance she had provided her father made her very familiar with the techniques and theory behind much of hemomancy. At first, she had ignored Zull and his continued insistence that she teach him, but eventually she had capitulated and agreed to instruct him. With a feverish intensity Zull had practiced everything she told him. Practically every moment he wasn’t sleeping, eating, or talking with someone else had been consumed by Zull’s attempts to master the finer points of blood binding as instructed to him by Sangue.
Zaphyr had tried several times to broach with him how uncomfortable she felt about Zull’s new obsession, but he had been evasive, deliberately dodging her questions as best he could. Now, however, she had finally managed to pin him down by riding her horse up alongside his and asking him, point blank, what she wanted to know.
“Then what do you intend to do with it, Zull?” Zaphyr demanded. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I intend several things, Zaphyr, but I will tell you one: I’m trying to protect us,” Zull said quietly, but the intensity and earnestness on his face was enough to make Zaphyr pause and wait to hear the rest of what he had to say. “Twice now, we’ve nearly died at the hands of another hemomancer. Twice, we were barely saved by the help of Sir Kyr, Vard, and the others. We were unable to defend ourselves! Gerok had the best intentions, to teach us to be healers, but his training hasn’t been able to protect us against the Master’s assassins. What if we must face the Master himself, without Sir Kyr or the others there to save us? What then?”
Zaphyr hesitated, then said, “Even so, there must be better, more humane means to go about it then learning what we need from a maniac like her.”
“I’m sure there are,” Zull agreed. “But right now, we don’t have access to them. She’s the only other person experienced with hemomancy in our group, and so if we want to hone our skills, it must be with her.”
“She’s not even a hemomancer!” Zaphyr protested.
“You know what I mean,” Zull said, annoyed.
“Another thing,” Zaphyr said pressing on. “Sangue isn’t the kind of person who does something for anyone else out of generosity or pity. Especially not someone she sees as an enemy, like us. She asked you for something in return. What was it?”
Zull rubbed at the back of his neck with his hand. “She…like her father, she is obsessed with Sir Kyr. Especially since he defeated her in their battle. It’s almost psychotic. I think she wants to become more like him, but that’s only a speculation on my part.”
“Zull,” Zaphyr said. “What did she want?”
Zull, agitated, chewed on his lower lip. “Among other things, information. She wanted to know everything that I knew about Sir Kyr that she didn’t. His habits, how he healed after being injured. Everything.”
“And you told her?” Zaphyr asked, her voice rising in volume, making both Vard and Vyle glance over at them out of curiosity.
“It seemed to me like a fair trade, considering what I was getting in return,” Zull protested. “Besides, she’s our prisoner, and we would never let her get close enough to Sir Kyr to hurt him. She can’t use that information.”
“I still don’t think it’s the right thing to do,” Zaphyr said.
“There’s more to it than that, Zaphyr,” Zull insisted stubbornly. “If you will listen, I-” Before Zull could finish what he was saying, Zaphyr kicked her horse into a canter and rode further ahead to where Sir Kyr was leading their group.
“Good afternoon, Sir Kyr,” she said, more out of polite habit than anything else. “How are you doing today?”
“Well enough,” the knight responded, eyes roving the horizon ahead, looking for other groups of travelers. He coughed once, holding a furred hand over his mouth. After the fit was finished, he looked at his hand, which had specks of some black, foul-smelling matter on it. With a grimace he wiped it away on the side of his saddle.
“How are your wounds?” Zaphyr asked sympathetically.
“Mostly healed by now. While it is slower than I had expected, based on past experiences, I have still recovered far, far faster than a normal human would have,” he told her. “How is your arm?”
“The cut left a scar,” she said, showing him the narrow, jagged line of white flesh down her arm.
“Quite a collection of scars you and your brother will have by the end of this journey,” Sir Kyr commented. “Regardless of the outcome of this quest, you will have a great deal to remember it by.”
“Yes,” Zaphyr said sadly, resisting the urge to shudder as memories of their encounter with Choler, Aldus, and Sangue ran through her mind. “That reminds me: I wanted to speak with you about Zull.”
“You mean, you wish to convince me to persuade Zull to give up his attempt to learn everything he can about hemomancy from Sangue.”
Zaphyr was slightly taken aback, but quickly regained her composure. “Well, yes.”
“Unfortunately, I cannot. To do so would be hypocritical of me.”
Zaphyr’s eyes narrowed slightly as she studied Sir Kyr. “Why not?”
Sir Kyr sighed. “Because I am the one who encouraged him to learn from her in the first place.”
“What?” Zaphyr said, shocked. “How could you? You know better than any of us how horrific she and her father were! What they did to you, to countless others…”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
“You need not remind me,” Sir Kyr said, cutting her off gently but firmly. “But to not learn from her everything she knows about the art of hemomancy would be to leave a precious tool unexploited.”
“She is evil,” Zaphyr insisted. “And her methods are as well.”
“I do not disagree with you,” Sir Kyr said, his tone resigned. “But, like with all other tools, it is the intention of the wielder, not the nature of the tool itself, that matters. If you refuse to use hemomancy to its fullest potential, then you and your twin cripple yourselves. We will face other hemomantic assassins, of that, I am sure.” Sir Kyr shifted in his saddle to look at her, and his wolfish lips were pulled back in an ironic grin. “Your brother has realized what needs to be done to protect you both. Do you?”
Zaphyr groaned in exasperation and, with a tug of the reins, drew her horse off a short distance from the others, preferring to stew by herself rather than continue the conversation.
They rode on in silence after that, eyes always watching the road on either side for any other travelers. They were near Melkis by now they knew, especially with how much faster they could travel while riding which came with riding. By the end of the day, they would reach a town which Vard informed them was named Veb, and from there it was a simple two days’ ride to Melkis itself. Both Zaphyr and Zull were excited to finally have their destination in sight, and were overjoyed at the thought of their long, arduous journey coming to an end. That evening, as they approached the city, they stayed a few minutes away, as Sir Kyr’s appearance and Vyle’s status as a wanted criminal prevented either of them from going out in public undisguised. Instead, Vard, along with both Shaw and Henriks, rode into the city to rent someplace on the edge of town where they could spend the night, hopefully without attracting any attention.
“Two more days,” Zull reminded Zaphyr while they waited for the return of Vard and the others. “Two more days, and we will be in the capital. We’ll see the Empress herself. We’ll be able to deliver Gerok’s letter.”
“The letter,” Zaphyr said. While still unhappy with her brother, she didn’t want to broach the conversation again, for fear of wounding his feelings further. “It’s hard to imagine sometimes, that all of this bloodshed, all these deaths and this horror has been over a simple letter.”
“Wars have been fought over less,” Zull told his sister.
“What drives people to do such horrid things to each other?” Zaphyr wondered aloud. She didn’t expect an answer, and she didn’t receive one from Zull, who frowned thoughtfully. “What are you thinking about?” she asked him idly.
“Where the Master and his men are, and what they’re doing, right now,” Zull said. “He undoubtedly has operations in motion that have nothing to do with us. So what are they? Will delivering this letter even make a difference?”
“Regardless of whether or not it does, we did our part by giving it to the Empress,” Zaphyr said. “Neither she, nor anyone else, could ask more than that of us.”
“I suppose,” Zull said.
A short while later, Vard returned, grinning happily. “We managed to rent an unused barn at the edge of town for a practical steal of a price,” he boasted. “It’s large enough to fit all of us and is just far enough away from town to keep us hidden. It’s perfect.”
“You’re quite the barterer, aren’t you, Vard?” Vyle said wryly. “Perhaps you’re in the wrong profession. You should have been a merchant.”
Vard waved away his compliments with faux humility. “I do what I can. Let’s get there before the sun sets.”
They rode as a group to the barn which Vard had purchased using a portion of Vyle’s not miniscule fortune. It was a large, vine-covered building, adjacent to a similarly abandoned farm, the ground parched and rank with weeds. Entering the barn, they found it a dusty, empty space, the only light that illuminated the space coming through gaps in the ceiling. Despite the building being unused for years, a faint smell of manure still hung in the air.
“Not exactly what I would consider homely, but it will suffice for a night or two,” Vyle said. “Our horses can crop on this old farmstead, and we can all sleep in here.” He motioned to his men. “Bring Sangue in, now.”
His followers complied, and a bound and glowering Sangue was led through the barn’s open door. Her hair, dirty and unkempt, hung down around her face, partially obscuring it. But her eyes, which seemed to glow with an inner, hate-filled fire, shone through all the same. She was wrapped in metal chains around her arms and wrists, but the casual air with which she dismissed these impediments implied that she could snap them at a moment’s notice, if she so wished. Zaphyr was very glad that, so far, she hadn’t attempted to put that theory into practice.
“Good evening, Sangue,” Vyle said cheerfully. “And how is our one and only prisoner doing today?”
“I’m going to kill you, Vyle, for what you did to my father,” Sangue said, without any emotion or spirit in her voice. Her expression seemed to Zaphyr more pained than usual, and her face was unhealthily pale and dripping with sweat, as if she was secretly suffering from some illness.
“I slew him like the mad dog he was,” Vyle said. “You should be grateful that Vard, the tender soul that he is, talked me into leaving you alive.”
Sangue spat at his feet, but let his men lead her past him and to the corner of the barn, where she knelt in the dirt, glowering at the floor. Almost immediately, Zull walked over and sat down beside her, using his finger to draw diagrams in the dirt, which she would occasionally correct or elaborate upon. Sir Kyr, leaning against the opposite wall of the barn, watched the two of them intently.
Feeling uneasy, Zaphyr joined Vyle and Vard where they were chatting by the entrance. Seeing her concerned expression, Vard said sympathetically, “I don’t like it either, Zaphyr.”
“Then why don’t you do something about it?” Zaphyr demanded.
“I’m hardly you or Zull’s father, Zaphyr,” Vard said uncomfortably. “I don’t have that kind of authority, and it would be improper of me to assume it. Zull is his own person, and he should make his own decisions, however foolish they might be.”
“I don’t want him to hurt himself,” Zaphyr said, looking back over her shoulder at her brother, now engrossed in conversation with Sangue. “And I don’t trust what she is teaching him. She will undoubtedly try to twist him to her way of thought.”
“You need to have some more faith in your brother, Zaphyr,” Vyle said, patting her on the shoulder as he did so. “He’s a smart lad, and an observant one. I’m sure that, if Sangue did try to deceive or manipulate him, he would be aware of it, and her efforts would be for nothing. She can’t cause us any real harm. Not anymore.”
“I suppose so,” Zaphyr said uncomfortably. She shuffled away from Vyle and Vard, sitting down in the middle of the barn floor, before a small weed which grew up, by itself, in the middle of the dirt. It had a large white bloom on top of it, which, as Zaphyr brushed it with her fingers, drew closed, as if to protect itself. She considered plucking it but decided ultimately to leave it alone. She stood up once more and looked upwards. The fading rays of sunlight were coming through the roof, tinged reddish-yellow, and were casting a golden pallor over everything within. The door to the barn had been shut for the night by Vyle and his men, and a slight chill was in the air, which made Zaphyr rub her hands together to warm them up slightly. Eventually, Zaphyr, for lack of anything better to do and tempted by curiosity, wandered over to see what her brother and Sangue were discussing. As she walked close enough to hear their hushed conversation, she saw that Sangue had used a finger to draw a circle in the dirt, the rim of which was surrounded by a halo of symbols and letters which she didn’t recognize.
“…and so, if you wish to break a blood binding, the most core and essential element is to identify the location of the binding on the body of the subject. An application of your own blood to that binding, and a focus of your hemomantic power, should disrupt, or possibly even sever, the binding,” Sangue said. Her eyes flicked up for the slightest of seconds, noting Zaphyr, then continuing her conversation as if nothing had happened. “Of course, there are far more subtle and technical ways to do so, especially if you wish the hemomancer to not know that you have severed the blood binding, but that is, at its foundation, the process involved.”
“Fascinating,” Zull said. He noticed Zaphyr standing over his shoulder, and, frowning thoughtfully, gestured for her to join him. “As I told you earlier, Sangue has been instructing me in the making and breaking of blood bindings.”
“I am something of an expert in the subject,” Sangue told Zaphyr, smirking slightly as she did so. She held her arm out for Zaphyr to inspect. Zaphyr saw a circle, filled with a dense, intricate set of letters that she couldn’t even hope to read, on Sangue’s upper bicep. The circle was pitch black and looked as if it had been etched into her arm with ink or charcoal. One half of the circle looked slightly fuzzy, as if someone had taken their finger along it and had smudged it.
“A genuine blood binding, for your inspection,” Sangue said with a pained smile. “I have a dozen more of these, scattered across my body. No one blood binding could hold me together. Without these, my body, as enhanced as it is, wouldn’t be able to function.” She gestured with a flick of her head to Sir Kyr across the room. “He has quite a few of these as well, but his fur hides them.”
“These bindings were made by your father, right?” Zaphyr asked.
Sangue nodded wordlessly.
Zaphyr cocked her head to the side, eyes widening as a new thought struck her. “Now that he is dead, how do they still function?”
Sangue eyes darted from Zaphyr to Zull, back to Zaphyr. Her voice brittle, she said, “Why do you think I am teaching your brother all these things?”
Zaphyr put a hand on Zull’s shoulder, whose sad expression told her everything she needed to know. “A blood binding requires a link between the hemomancer and their subject. Aldus was talented and skilled enough that he built…reinforcements, for lack of a better word, into his blood bindings. They didn’t snap instantly upon his death. But they are decaying, and the pace of decay is accelerating. It’s part of why I’m trying to learn all of this, Zaphyr. If we can’t make our own blood bindings, and soon, Sangue and Sir Kyr will both die, their bodies literally failing them.”
“I don’t want to die,” Sangue said, her voice whimpering, almost pleading. “You’re stronger than your brother. If you help him, you could save me! Save us both.”
“Well, Zaphyr?” Zull asked quietly. “What do you say?”
Zaphyr looked to where Sir Kyr continued to watch them patiently, his wolfen expression unreadable. “Does Sir Kyr know about this?”
Zull turned his face towards the ground. “I…don’t know. I think so. If he doesn’t, he will soon. His and Sangue’s health will start noticeably failing in the next couple of days. After that, it won’t be long.”
“I…,” Zaphyr shook her head, tears starting to come to the corners of her eyes. “Let me think about it.”
Abruptly she stood up and walked away, Zull watching her leave with disappointment evident on his face. Sangue, unnoticed by both, looked down at the diagram she had drawn, lips twitching in a mad, desperate smile.