There are several kingdoms in our continent, each of them with their own kings and queens. Among them, three rulers stand above others: Queen Aetna of Vivre, the greatest magician of our generation; The nymph Nida, head of the eight races of the Grand Forest and the most powerful Oracle; King Njalmar of Fiandel, the greatest warrior of all.
These are the three forces that command the continent. As long as these three forces exist, there is no hope for other kingdoms who want to have any real influence on the fate of the lands we inhabit.
Excerpt from a speech given by Fabius Emanuelson Dwfryn III – to the court of Rendall
*
Carts and traders are busy in the streets of Vivre. Early in the morning the establishments get ready to start activities. A handful of clients already appreciate the products in the shop windows.
This constant movement allows some figures to go unnoticed: Spies, messengers and secret lovers head to their destinations, through streets and alleys, in the hope of reaching something (or someone).
Among such individuals, two hooded figures walk along the city walls, skirting the outer borders from the inside, with eyes on the watchtowers and also on the tower where one specific prisoner is allocated.
-You should learn magic. – A green-eyed elf speaks to a man with brown hair.
-I am sorry, commander, but I really don’t want to specialize in magic.
-But you want to be a soldier, don’t you? Your life would be easier if you could use magic. Not only would be an advantage in battle, it would also help you to move up the army rankings with ease.
-If I can say something, it is possible to move up on the ranks as a warrior.
-You can drop the formalities. Speak freely and don’t look at me like that. You saved my life in battle. You can treat me as a friend when we’re not officially on duty.
-I-I will try.
-That is all I ask. Back to the subject: You could rank up as a warrior. If only you were skilled enough.
-I am not a bad warrior.
-Exactly. You are not bad, but you are also not exceptional. You lack talent as a warrior. The effort you put into your training with the sword is obvious, but after your encounter with the bestial, even an idiot can see that you would be better as a mage.
They slow down the pace as the castle gets closer. The streets have less people in it and they make sure that they are not being followed.
-I still don’t want to learn magic.
-Why not? Humans are in disadvantage in battles, especially with swords. Even our king, were it not for his exceptional talent, would be defeated by an ogre or a vampire in a corporal battle.
Thiago clenches his fists.
-I don’t want to learn magic.
She does not need to ask. She knows that there is a reason for such persistence. The way he says the phrase to himself and not as a response to her claims is what confirms the elf’s suspicions.
-You can have your reasons. – She says while counting the floors of the nearest tower. – However, one day, your effort may not be enough to win the battle in front of you. A battle you want to win, more than any other. A battle that you could win if you had followed the path of magic.
-It does not matter. I am willing to lose the battle.
-It could be a battle to prevent someone from having the same problem you have with magic.
-What kind of creature would be able to avoid the trauma of a battle? Of a war?
“Well, does that mean that your trauma was caused by war?” She thinks before saying:
-What kind of creature, you say.
The elf opens her palm, where is placed a folded piece of paper. A gust of wind takes the paper and carries it for many feet above the heads of the two hooded creatures.
-Yes. What kind of creature could do that?
Two creatures go through the streets of Vivre, mixing with customers and traders in the markets.
-A creature much stronger than the two of us.
*
-I miss my family. – Arthur mumbles for himself. His mind is tired and the body finally relaxed. After an entire day trying to create the flames he saw in the hands of the Queen, he feels that no progress was made.
She had said that her magic was not something that he could do naturally, however, he hoped that she was wrong. He wished he could create the flames and use them as some kind of weapon to escape.
The knowledge that he would be executed the next day was also discouraging. The previous night passed particularly quickly and he was feeling haunted by the notion that everything was about to end.
The only improvement occurred in his leg. Since the queen’s visit, he has felt his wound better and, at this point, was able to walk while leaning on something – right now, he uses the walls. Fast movements were impossible to him, but he could at least stagger from wall to wall without stopping.
That, however, is nowhere near enough to sound like a victory. The realization brings with it a bittersweet feeling and that is what remains of something that, in other circumstances, would be celebrated as a miraculous recovery.
The sunlight enters through the small opening in the wall, accompanied by a gust of wind. This is the wind that carries a letter into the prison and, before it can rest on the ground, the boy has his hands on the paper.
The “letter” is just a piece of folded paper, with drawings on both sides. Arthur immediately tries to understand them. Each individual drawing conveys some information, that can be translated like this:
“There is a stairway to the left.”
“A castle with the moon over the tallest tower and guards sleeping on the floor, with big spaces between them.”
“A route going through town, ending up in a place where horses are allocated.”
“The sun coming up and a group of carriages leaving.”
That’s it. Some confusing information, but at least it is not using some type of rune that Arthur would be unable to read. These are instructions that indicate an escape route.
There is no guarantee of success.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
But it is still much more than he has received so far.
At first, he forgot that Rinlia suggested something during their conversations. Only then he remembers that she mentioned the possibility of an aid to get out of the city if he were able to escape from prison.
At first, the idea seems awful. In addition to her being responsible for his current state, there was no guarantee that she would not hand him over to Vivre’s kingdom again. It was clear that she had no intention of providing direct aid to him and the small amounts of help was all she would give.
Still, a small amount help is not the same as no help at all. The paper between his fingers is proof of that.
He reads the letter again, making sure there is no secret message behind the simple drawings on the paper. He smiles after understanding that because of the fact that she does not know him, she would not take risks by hiding a message that could never be found.
After reciting the contents of the paper several times, he tears the letter into several pieces in order to swallow them. After finishing the task, he looks at his hands, once again trying to create the green flames.
The door opens behind him. Arthur turns around, hoping to see someone who could help him, but who enters the room is an elf guard, in light armor, someone has not even let him talk in the previous days. She carries a piece of bread and a mug full of water.
He knows what to do. Unlike other guards, she does not leave any utensils in the cell – fearing he could use one of them as a weapon. Arthur has to drink the water and eat the food as fast as possible, otherwise a punch or a kick would hasten him soon.
He eats with mechanical gestures and leaves the utensils for the guard. She leaves, slamming the door and closing the bolt outside. He sighs and leans against the wall, returning to the place under the small window.
And then he sees the ghostly image of the incorporeal.
-You! – He tries to repress his voice, which almost came out as a shout. – Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you this whole time!
The girl has not entirely recovered from the day she helped him with the injury in his leg. Her image remains semitransparent and he is barely able to distinguish the contours of her face.
She approaches him.
-What? Do you want me to do something? What?
Arthur extends his hand, imitating the gesture from the previous encounters, but she goes back and it seems that she is afraid of his touch.
-What? What is happening?
She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out of her lips.
-What do you want me to do?
She puts her finger over her lips, calling for silence.
The girl approaches him and extends her hand in front of his face. He waits, fearing that a gesture could scare her away.
After noticing his immobility, she moves her hand forward, touching him. Immediately, a warm feeling invades Arthur’s mind and the comforting feeling of recharging energies settles in his brain. He smiles and feels his muscles relax. His hand, resting on the wall, barely supports the body, as his injured leg seems to recover.
Then, she removes her hand. He immediately has to lean on the wall to avoid falling. Arthur opens his eyes and notices her active expression, as if she had given him some type of information.
-What?
She points to her hand and, then, to his face.
-What did you find out? What is it?
She repeats the gesture. It takes a few tries before he can understand what she wants to convey.
-Do you want me to do the same to you?
She nods vigorously. He looks at his hand.
She was right. According to everyone, he should be able to transmit some kind of power to her. If she was stronger, she could help him, like she did when he was attacked by the bear.
He puts his hand under his chin and thinks about the situation. She waits.
-Well, it is worth a try. After all, it seems that I cannot do this by myself.
The girl nods again.
-Okay, I understand. We will try.
They both sit on the floor – she hovers over the ground – so he can relax his body and stop worrying about the injured leg.
They face each other. She stretches out her hand in front of him. Arthur places his own palm below hers, making a move to receive her hand, but knowing that he would not really touch the translucent content that replaced the skin on the ghost girl.
“Right. Be calm. Calm is important in moments like this.” He says to himself, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to visualize the moment when she strengthened him before.
His only idea is to try and change the course of the energy.
Previously, when she helped him, he felt like something inside him, that he did not even know was empty, was filled with a new energy, unlike any other he had ever felt in his life.
Thus, if he wanted her to receive his help, he would need to empty his own inner repository and pass the energy on to her.
And that is what he tried to do.
They touch hands and, at first, his body tries to absorb her energy. The feeling is good enough to make him forget about his task, being carried away for a moment. However, in the next seconds he is able to resist, stopping the flow.
“So, this is magic.”
He feels a river that flows from her into him. Stopping the energy that wants to enter his body is like trying to build a dam.
Earlier, when he tried to imitate Queen Aetna’s magic, he felt nothing. It was as if he tried to touch the void and ended up trapped in a deep darkness. Now, however, everything seems to be consistent. Even though he cannot control the river, he can see and also feel the flow that the stream wants to follow.
It is toward his own river. Inside his body, in a place he did not know that existed. A river that flows by itself, going down through his body, pouring into the floor of the cell. It is much bigger than a river. It is an ocean, resting below the tower, towards the interior of the planet.
He feels his body’s contact with magic. Feel her magic flowing into him. He feels the stream, running to the ground and disappearing into the world, inside and amount so enormous that even as a mere spectator he cannot understand its magnitude.
-I think… I understand it.
The magic has its own stream, but it is not one that cannot be changed. Until now, it was directed from her to him.
He tries, but cannot take the magic from the ocean under him.
But what if he does not use the ocean? What if he just changes the direction the river flows? He could just show a new path, in the direction of the ghost girl.
He needs to try. Even if he can move just a small portion of magic. Even if he can do it just once.
Even if only this time.
A flash and a blackout.
For a moment, he almost passed out again. The energy that passed through his body was much greater than any other he felt in the past days. Tears came to his eyes and tremors to his hands, not because of the effort, but because of an inexplicable nervousness. His lips trembles and his legs, even though he is sitting, seem to tremble in fear of what has passed through his body.
The ocean directs the flow of the water upstream, violently passing through him, filling her own repository.
The ghost in front of him is no longer just a ghost. Now she looks like a marble statue, floating over the stone floor.
She admires her own arms for a moment. Her eyes are more attentive and her hands looks more delicate. Her black hair looks shiny and her face has more discernible features.
The expression on her face is agitated. She looks around, as if analyzing the situation for the first time since her arrival. She then points to the crack in the wall.
It takes a couple of tries before he can understand what she wants to say.
-Break out of here? Do you think we can do that?
She nods. The same old positive sign.
-How? I can’t even walk right now.
He does not even try to be pessimistic. He only acknowledges his current situation. Despite the ecstasy generated when he was able to give her some magic, he now feels his body heavy, as if the burden of such act had come in the form of weights over his shoulders.
She points to herself and, then, to him.
-Will you help me? – He asks. She agrees, pointing to her own hand before pointing to his. – You want to use magic? You want to give me magic? But last time you almost disappeared because of that.
She straightens her posture and simulates a salute before smiling. It is the first time that she shows signs of her personality to him. It is the first time that someone has treated him as a colleague in this world.
This ghost is Arthur’s first friend since he was brought in by the storm.
-Would you do that for me?
She uses her thumb to make a positive gesture. He sniffles, trying to hold the tear that wants to get out of his eye. It is not enough.
Arthur clears his throat and turns his body, hiding his face. The girl surrounds him, moving quickly, wanting to know if there is something wrong with him.
-I am ok. I just… Some dust got into my eye.
She waits for him to compose himself. Once he recovers, he looks at the image in front of him with admiration and affection.
“I am not alone.”
-We will make it. But we need to wait ‘till nightfall.
She tilts her head, questioning his decision.
-I have my reasons. – He smiles. – Besides, all this magic got me tired. I need to get some sleep. You have to trust me.
When Arthur closes his eyes, he knows that she trusts him.
Maybe he could trust in her too.
*
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