Chapter 21

Liars & Conmen

Eryn watched with a slight measure of guilt as the parade of soldiers departed through the gates of Heraldforn. He had been by no means friends of Haiden, he’d liked the man but that didn’t mean he felt any guilt for not seeking vengeance for him.

What left him feeling remorse was knowing that the time had come to abandon his master. Ideron, who had been kind to him during his years at Tal Eyne. Who had worked so frustratingly hard to indoctrinate Eryn into the Tal’s belief system. He’d always known this day would come. And surely Master Ideron knows this too. How could he not? He knew of Eryn’s family history. He knows what the Tal’s Vindicators did to his brothers and his father. Did they really think that Eryn would simply forget, that he would accept it as ‘God’s will’ and move on? It festered in his heart like a sharp and poisonous thorn.

The big Librestran man was of course leading the procession. The townsfolk of Heraldforn cheering for his triumphant return. With the Yashai Princess’ head. Lady Torren herself, dawned in a black dress and veil of mourning, stood atop the gate, gazing approvingly at the numbers that had risen to the task. Her borderline treasonous call-to-arms were also spreading to the nearby towns and cities of Tarong.

Some of the soldiers were on horseback, saddlebags wedged with supplies and provisions for the expedition. Ideron, it seemed, was not considered by the expedition’s benefactor as being valuable enough for a mount. Wouldn’t all the horses die in the desert anyway? The Torrens had been orchestrating excursions into Yashai territory for decades so perhaps they had means of keeping them alive? The benefit of mounts to carry the supplies and the arses of listless nobles probably outweighed the risks to the horses’ lives.

Eryn wondered if Ideron suspected that he planned to run away. At Tal Eyne, escape was impossible. The citadel had guards on every gate and apprentices weren’t allowed to leave without their master’s permission. The trip to Heraldforn was Eryn’s golden opportunity to finally break free of their metaphorical shackles. But he’d been in Ideron’s constant company the entirety of the trip. He also suspected that Ideron had a means to track him if he was close. The old magi seemed to have an otherworldly ability to always know what Eryn was up to. Now that he was going south, and leaving Eryn to operate independently for a time. Well, that changes everything. He’d wait a day or so, and then take the road north to Eard. He didn’t have a fully thought-out plan yet. But it began with getting away from Ideron and hiding from Tal magi for as long as he could.

Eryn felt a knot growing in his stomach as Ideron, garbed in his blue travelling robes, separated himself from the procession. He’d spotted Eryn watching from the gate.

“I need not remind you of your objectives,” Ideron stated without a shred of pleasantries.

“Looking forward to your trip?” Eryn smirked, knowing full well how his master felt about the heat.

“I am always eager to do Timeran’s bidding, in any form that takes… even if it forces me into a blasted desert.” His eyes drifted up to Lady Torren standing up on the gate battlements.

“Lady Torren may begin to monitor the messages coming and going from her castle zhao nest. You should exercise wisdom and find a private zhao handler in the town for your reports to the Tal.”

“Of course, master,” Eryn said, cheerily. He had absolutely no fucking intention of sending another zhao to that place. Horrid creatures. He shuddered internally.

“And keep up with your Haga practice, daily.”

“I know, master,” Eryn couldn’t help but grin. He never had to do another Haga in his life.

“Take care, master,” Eryn said earnestly. This was likely the last time they would ever see each other. As soon as the statement was out, Eryn regretted it. Ideron’s eyes narrowed. Oh shit. He should’ve groaned about the Haga and the zhao. Ideron was suspicious of everything. He knew this.

“I know that we haven’t discussed your comments at the wedding,” Ideron began. Eryn had hoped that in the aftermath of Haiden and Farho’s murders that Ideron had forgetten his outburst at the wedding. “The vindicators are not to be trifled with, Eryn. Any transgressions are dealt with harshly, do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” he lied. It did not ease Ideron’s suspicions, his eyes boring into Eryn for a glimpse of his intentions. Eryn did his best to appear nonplussed at his master's shift in tone.

“The Aeth girl,” Ideron moved on and Eryn felt the knot of tension in his stomach release. “She’s not coming south.”

“I know, master. You included that in your instructions, I’m to watch for any nefario—”

“—She’s over there,” Ideron interrupted him, indicating the Aeth girl amongst the crowd. She was leaning against the wall of a tavern on the other side of the street.

“She will be staying here in Heraldforn for her co-conspirators' return, I am sure,” Ideron said. I’m pretty sure she’s just a regular girl. Just because she’s an Aeth, didn’t make her a suspect. Ideron’s inherent magi prejudices against Aeth and Orak was clouding his judgement on this particular topic.

Ideron then did something that Eryn did not anticipate. He traced a rune with his hand, keeping eye contact with the girl. Ideron’s hand moved faster than Eryn could decipher it. Was that Ce-Anth, or perhaps Yastha? It looked like a tracking rune, or maybe a binding rune?

“Mast—” Ideron held up his free hand, cutting Eryn off. Then he turned to face Eryn with a mask of stern determination. He traced out more runes and Eryn could sense the draw of aether through them, resting on him.

“What are you doing?” Eryn hissed at him in a panic. He recognised the elemental runes for fire amongst a succession of more complex runes he did not.

“A simple binding,” Ideron said casually.

“It doesn’t look like a simple binding. And why the fuck are you binding me to her?!”

“Do not be so dramatic, Eryn,” Ideron said, flippantly waving his hand, “the girl has an importance, I can feel it. Do think me a blind fool, I can sense your apathy to this task so consider this some additional motivation to stay close to her.”

“What will happen if I don’t?” Eryn could feel his plans for escape—for freedom—slipping through his fingers like sand. There’s surely a way to unbind us without Ideron? But he’d need a full magi to do that.

“It won’t come to that,” Ideron grinned, “because you’ll keep watch over her as I’ve told you to… but if you were to get too distant from her… well, burns can be healed but best to avoid that, yes? Consider this some extra incentive for this task.” Eryn couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Ideron had bound him to the Aeth girl?! He didn’t bother to hide the outrage on his face.

“And remember,” Ideron chuckled, moving to rejoin the procession, “your Haga practice is of utmost importance.” Eryn was left agape, watching the tail of the procession leaving the gate. He looked over at the Aeth who met his eye. Could she feel it? Did she know that she was the reason that Eryn’s desire for freedom was crumbling to dust?

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

***

Mercy caught the younger magi watching her. What are you looking at? She tried to convey to him with an affronted glare. What’s his problem? Magi are weird.

Her father had always taught her to be wary of them. Children dabbling in forces far older and more powerful than they can ever hope to understand.

She was doubly suspicious of him since last night. Were the magi involved with the kidnappers? Looking at the plump dope she thought it unlikely but appearances could be deceiving.

Mercy sighed and rubbed her temples with one hand, she wanted a drink. Without her father to tell her what and what-not to do, she could have a drink. Even if it was still early morning. The bars were open and the market too. Crowds had gathered to watch the procession but general workers and labourers didn’t seem to be about their usual business today.

Mercy entered the dive-bar she’d been leaning against for the duration of Zanzo’s ludicrous procession. She’d hoped to get one last look at Roxanne but for some reason it seemed Zanzo had chosen not to bring the beautiful beast south with him. He loved that thing. She doubted he’d have sold her, but it would be risky bringing an elephant south. She would probably die in the desert after all. But Mercy could imagine Zanzo would rather Roxanne was dead than in the hands of another master. Maybe he found a stable that would house her until his return. That would be the sensible thing to do.

The bar was humming with activity. Men and women sat around tables giving toasts to Zanzo’s heroics. Mercy tutted, All he did was get drunk and bed old Lady Torren. Eli and Jax are more heroic than him. She thought bitterly.

Others lamented over the loss of their liege lord. In the corner, an industrious bard was already singing about last night's events. The tune was a familiar one but he’d swapped out the old words for his own clumsy lyrics. Of course the tale was wildly exaggerated and inaccurate.

She didn’t want to remember the night. But she found herself tapping her foot to the familiar music.

She shouldered her way through the patrons and made her way towards the bar. She ordered a tankard of ale from the sweating barkeep.

“Busy morning?” She asked casually.

“Lady Torren declared a week of mourning for her Lords Farho and Haiden. But no rest for us, the people need to drink away the sorrow, naturally,” he spoke as he poured her a tankard from the tap.

“Is that normal?” Mercy asked, “for almost everyone to be forced to stop working after a Lord dies?”

“Aye, ‘tis customary for people of Urungeald,” he replied. “What can I get for ya?” he called past her shoulder.

“Ale is fine,” came a young man’s voice. Mercy glanced back and saw that it was the magi that had been staring at her in the street. “It can be a tumultuous time, you know,” he said, picking up the conversation. “Lower nobility in the town would be making plays for the seats of power in Heraldforn. The King in Urundal will soon be appointing a new Citylord.”

“Lady Torren won’t be happy about that,” Mercy took a sip of her ale as it was handed to her.

“She doesn’t seem like the type to sit still,” the magi nodded, “I’m Eryn, by the way.”

“Mercy,” she raised her tankard to him in greeting.

“What do you make of all this?” He asked, taking the seat next to her at the bar.

“I don’t have much opinion on it,” she took another sip. She was hoping it would settle the queasy feeling in her stomach, so far it was having the opposite effect.

“What’s your plan then?” He said, there was an edge of annoyance in his tone. Never trust a magi. They’re always scheming something. Her fathers words sounded in her head.

“What’s it to you?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Just making conversation,” he replied, off-handedly.

“Well make it somewhere else,” and stop creeping me out.

“Listen, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here, ok?”

“So then leave me alone,” she shifted on her stool to face away from him.

“What do you know about binding runes?” he prodded. Not so subtle, this one.

“Look,” she spun back, “my Da told me about magi. I know you don’t like Aeth because we can use aether, and you don’t like that. Well, tough shit. I’m not teaching you about it.”.

The magi will always want your secrets. Always trying to glean information on how scapes work. But it’s all bluster and lies with them. Just avoid ‘em.

“I don’t care about any of that,” Eryn shook his head with exasperation.

“I don’t believe you. Magi are all liars and con-men.”

“No really, I don’t care—wait, wait! You’re right!” Eryn straightened his back in his stool. The boy’s candour was too much to be a front. Is he just really bad at being a magi?

“Whatever you’re looking for…” she began but then quickly realised that he wasn’t even listening to her anymore.

“Of course… he was lying!” he said more so to himself than to her. A grin split his face and he downed his tankard in five messy gulps. The ale spilled down his pink chin and onto his grey robes. He then hacked and coughed, trying to smother a wet burp.

Without a goodbye or any acknowledgement to Mercy at all, the boy hopped off his stool and strode right out of the tavern.

So fucking weird.

***

Eryn had a bounce in his step as he made his way back to the keep.

How could he have been so blind? He’d been given countless lectures from Ideron on this. Illusion and deception are the cornerstone of a good magi’s skillset. It doesn’t matter if something is or isn’t possible. All you need to do is to convince someone that it is. A binding rune that burns someone if they get too far from the target? It was horseshit. The unrecognisable flourishes in Ideron’s runes had been nothing but distractions. Obfuscation is the key to deception. Eryn himself had done it when he’d placed the tracking rune on Amka, making embellishments to hide the fact that it had been a simple tracking rune.

He was going to pack his things and leave Heraldforn today! It was finally happening, he was finally free from the Tal’s grasp. These grey robes would be the first thing to go. Thick robes in this heat? He was already sweating and it wasn’t even mid-morning.

His first destination would be Eard. It was the closest major city. He didn’t have much money but he was a competent enough magi, he could find some work peddling healing tinctures or charms. He would just need to be careful about it so as to not alert any magi of Order Discar. That order was responsible for hunting those who practised magic outside of the Tal’s authority. And the vindicators were at the top of it. He had enough knowledge from his seven years at Tal Eyne to know how to avoid being discovered.

Eryn made it to the steps leading up to the fortress gate. His feet throbbing with the heat in his boots. His robe clinging to his body, heavy with his perspiration. So damn hot. Some nice light linen travelling clothes was top of his list he needed for the journey. He wondered how much he’d get for these apprentice robes. A few coppers at least. Perhaps he should hang on to them. He could dye them the colour of another magi order if he needed to pretend to be one.

After Eard, he’d want to continue north. His family had connections in Hirundal and that was where he would be most safe from the Tal’s clutches. Despite the Hirundal rebellion being declared officially ended by King Merand there were still many regions that openly defied Urungeald’s rule. Hirundal would be the wisest option for him. He just needed to cross the whole damn Kingdom to get there. But that was ok, because he was now a free man.

A free man that’s being boiled alive in this fucking robe.

He’d had enough. Eryn stopped and pulled the robe up over his head, panting as he did so. The morning sun glared hot against his exposed skin and he ducked into the shade of the wall. It was only a brief respite as he felt the flush of heat continuing to rise up from his feet. His skin was clammy, almost feverish. Eryn leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. His small clothes were completely saturated with the vile salty sweat of his ass and balls.

“Desert sun too much for ye, lad?” Eryn heard one of the guards on the battlements call down to him. Laughs from other guardsmen followed. Hardly… I’ve been fine every other day.

The realisation hit him like a sack of bricks. The son of a fucking jackal actually did it. He grit his teeth and pounded the sandstone wall with a fist. Eryn let out a disheartened groan as he felt his knuckles skinned against the abrasive rock. The sweat on his hands stung as it dripped onto the broken skin.

This was going to be a major roadblock in his plans.