19 Therin

Alira was gone without a word and as she disappeared down the tunnel, Therin felt his skin prickle with cool stillness. The crystalline cavern was rapidly growing colder, the green glow fading fast. The magic that had stabilised the temperature was fading. Frowning to himself, he clenched his hand into a fist and turned to Noran, no longer blindfolded.

“I thought Erin could see through your eyes.”

“She’s distracted,” Noran said evasively.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t. But I can’t feel her leeching power from me anymore. I don’t feel her looking through my eyes.” Nodding, Therin turned to Roshan.

“Before we leave, we have to destroy or retrieve every single thing we can find that has the green crystals. We’ll do that and rejoin Alira outside Lightholde.” The three men all broke away from one another and began to hunt down the shards of a god.

Seeing Alira restored was upsetting for Therin. Her appearance being tainted by Shadesorrow somehow seemed to keep her on the edges of humanity, allowing him to frame her as other and not feel as guilty about his choices to give her over to Devan. But when that green light had seeped into her, when her body had reformed as more human it had reiterated to him that he had made bad choices. Alira, despite her affinity for the dark witch power, was still a human. She deserved better than his selfish recrimination. Unbidden, the image of Alira’s ruined visage reforming filled his mind and he shook his head to clear the thought away.

As he made his way around the chamber, he touched the areas of crystal that still held green, letting Light flow until it cracked and green puffs of Hrulinar’s magic escaped. He hoped the god was able to reclaim the stolen power. Finally, when the chamber itself was devoid of all green and the soft pale crystal gave off a warm ambient light, he turned to the centre of the room where the manacles, daggers and tools were.

“These gems are already cut.” Roshan pointed to the daggers and frowned. Noran, his eyes wide, nodded his understanding.

“So?” Therin asked, confused.

“Cutting them changes them. The power inside them is stuck now.”

“We could overload them,” Roshan said, leaning closer to Noran and gesturing with a tanned hand. “Therin and I could just–”

“No,” Noran said, shaking his head. “That’s reckless. They could explode.”

“Then we take them,” Therin said, reaching for them. Noran’s hand shot out and clasped his fingers tightly.

“No,” he said again, but his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and met Therin’s eye. “The same risk applies if you carry them. Your Light is volatile to these gems.” He released Therin’s hand and laid his fingers across the blades tenderly. “I’ll carry them.”

“Is that safe?” Roshan asked. “They won’t fight for your attention?”

“The three with no pommel don’t have enough personality to vie for anything I have to offer them.”

“Personality?” Therin asked, making a disgusted face. “What does that mean?”

“The pommels hold the most spirit. Each stone will have some kind of awareness, some kind of personality, that a witch interacts with. A good, powerful blade will have a very powerful spirit with a lot of awareness in the pommel stone.” He touched the one at his waist again and blinked. “This one…It’s very…”

“Loud?” Therin asked, keenly aware that he was thinking about the young god that had outwitted him so many times. “Obnoxious?”

Noran shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but Roshan interrupted him.

“Free. Like the wind.”

Noran turned to him, his head cocked a little.

“Yes,” he whispered. “It feels like flying.”

“Perhaps that blade should be returned to Hrulinar,” Roshan said. “Keep it safe.” The two men stared at each other, the air between them charged with something heated.

Therin, choosing not to perceive the tension mounting between them, bent and retrieved Mara’s toolbox from beneath the table and inspected it once again. He noticed a bottom drawer in the leather box and with his thick fingers was finally able to tug it open. Shocked, he stood still for long enough that the two men pulled their attention from each other to see what had caused him to pause. They followed his gaze to the drawer he had ejected and both gasped.

Two enormous, dark green cut gemstones sat nestled in the black velvet lined drawer. They were being clasped by silver talons with long sparkling silver chains. Light emanated from the gemstones, swirling as though something living writhed inside. Hushed whispers were suddenly inside Therin’s mind, a jumbled mess of voices of different tones. The one that was loudest and clearest spoke in Dinaari, deep and warm, affection and pride filling him at the sound.

“What…” Therin reached out to take one of the enormous pendants but two hands gripped him, one tanned, one pale. Roshan and Noran had both stopped him, their heads shaking in unison.

“Those are beyond dangerous.” Roshan said. “It’s Prince Hrulinar, but it is not. Don’t touch them.”

Nodding in agreement, Therin dumped the necklaces out onto the table and pulled the velvet lining from the drawer. Carefully covering his fingers, he wrapped the pendants in the velvet and held them out to Noran.

“I can feel how dangerous these would be for me to carry.” Without hesitating, Noran accepted the small bundle, tucking them into his shirt.

They spent the next little while gathering the remaining weapons that lined the walls, complete or not. When each man bore as many of the weapons as they could carry, Therin led the way out, past the barren area around the plateau, to the line of trees. Noran paused, staring at the mound that housed such dark secrets.

“Wait here,” he said quietly, dropping the store of weapons he carried. He drew the green-gemmed dagger and carefully picked his way to the entrance of the caves and stopped near the boulder that had once hidden the entrance, standing in between the two halves. He lifted the dagger and as he did he began a soft chant. The smaller rocks around the entrance rumbled and rolled, moving quickly to form a tightly knit wall, barricading the entrance. He dropped his arm and sighed. Beside him, Roshan touched his arm, nodding his approval. The witch fell away and Roshan lifted his own arm, his hand already crackling with Light.

With a cry, the soft-spoken Blademaster raised his hand and summoned a quick, blinding shock of lightning, focusing the power directly at the stones that Noran had moved into place. With the heat of the Light strike, they melted, forming a black wall of obsidian. Roshan stumbled and Noran caught him, his arms around the smaller man. Roshan brought his hands up tentatively, clutching at Noran’s shirt as he steadied himself in his arms. Yet he did not pull away. Instead, Roshan looked up into Noran’s eyes, blinking away his frown, and froze.

Therin watched their forms in the moonlight for a moment before he turned his face toward the forest, allowing them a quiet, private moment. A soft smile played on his lips as he drew his sword and began to cut a path away from the burial mound.

“We will head to Ohira’s house and ask her what to do with the weapons and the necklaces.” Therin announced a short time later. He grunted as he hacked at the trees in front of him.

“There’s a path,” Noran said dully, a smirk on his pale face.

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Therin grumbled as they turned and pushed their way through the underbrush, emerging on a small animal trail worn into the forest by many feet over many years.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“You seemed to know what you were doing,” Noran said and Therin huffed in annoyance as Noran brushed past him, leading the way.

Therin had to admit, the path was a lot easier. While it tended to meander a little, Noran assured them it was heading in the general direction of the First Witch’s house and they made good time. As the sun was cresting the treetops, Noran paused, his finger to his lips. Therin waited and then he heard it too: the tinkle of a nearby stream.

“If we follow the stream, it will be faster,” Noran suggested. “I’ve flown over these woods a lot lately and the path wanders a little too far west before doubling back. The stream runs right to her house.”

“Lead the way,” Therin suggested and held his arm out for Roshan to overtake him. The smaller man hesitated a second, his eyes darting to Noran’s back before he fell in behind the witch.

They took a short break near the water, washing the dust and grime from their faces and hands before drinking deeply from the fresh water. Therin felt his stomach grumble and wished they had been carrying provisions.

“Ohira’s house is close,” Noran said comfortingly. “She has it spelled to be nearly invisible to those that wander too close but I’ll handle her enchantments once we get there.”

Grunting, Therin got back to his feet and hitched the weapons strapped to his back and belt. He nodded for Noran to lead the way again.

The First Witch lived in a small glen beside the stream, the water running merrily beside it. At first glance, Therin assumed it was a mossy boulder that stood near the water but as Noran drew his blade and whispered some words, the boulder became a squat, thatched cottage with a rough driftwood door. As the small house came into focus, the door banged open and a wild looking woman with milky eyes emerged.

“Ohira Nunjuli, the First Witch,” Therin announced but Noran shook his head sharply, silencing him.

“Ma’am,” Noran said contritely, bowing his head. “We come as friends of Alira.” He spoke the young witch’s name with reverence, imbuing it with power.

“Master Noran,” Ohira called back in reply. “It’s been a bit since your dark wings done flown over me and my home. Y’all still serve the Inquisitor and her Mistress?”

“No, ma’am,” Noran said, bowing yet lower. He dropped to his knees. “I owe my life to these two men.” He gestured and waved for them to join him on their knees. Roshan gracefully knelt while Therin crashed painfully to his knees, grunting as he landed.

“Ah, then it ain’t goin’ her way, is it?” The crone cackled and then spat. “Mara ain’t gonna be please her toy ain’t her toy no more.”

“Ma’am,” Noran said, lifting his head. “Erin has captured Prince Hrulinar.”

“I know,” Ohira said but her tone gave nothing away. “And she done made a bargain with Shadesorrow. One that won’t go her way if she ain’t careful.”

Therin lifted his own head at these words and eyed the crone.

“What do you mean?”

“Ah, Master Therin. I see you’re doin’ your part, too.” She cackled again, throwing her head back in raucous laughter. “Alira told me all about you.”

Frowning, Therin blinked back his surprise. “What about Erin and Shadesorrow?”

“Come in,” Ohira said in reply. “My time wanes and I ain’t getting younger. Get in here and I’ll tell you all I can.”

They filed in and the dim interior of the cottage was warm and welcoming. They unburdened themselves of the few weapons they had gathered, carefully laying them on the table.

“This all of them?” Ohira asked as she eyed the weapons with her white eyes.

“All that we could find.” Therin answered.

“And this,” Noran said, drawing the dagger but Ohira laid a gnarled hand on his and shook her head.

“Keep that one. Return it to him.”

“And the necklaces,” Roshan reminded them. “They are his as well.”

With trembling hands, Noran withdrew the small parcel and laid it open. As the gemstones were uncovered, Ohira hissed. The contents swirled, misty and liquid, inside the giant green stones.

“They stored his blood inside these,” Ohira said. “Immortal, Divine blood.”

“But it feels…wrong.” Roshan said and Ohira turned to face the Blademaster. She eyed him, her blind eyes drifting across his smooth, tanned face and dark eyes.

“Son of sands, what you think you know about this magic?”

Roshan baulked at the words, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He seemed to be taken aback, searching for a reply as he cleared his throat and spoke in his soft, light voice.

“Well,” he started but paused and grinned widely at the crone, who returned the smile with a toothless grin of her own. “It feels as though it’s been corrupted. Perverted.”

“It has,” Ohira said simply. “They done taken it from his Divine form, not his human one. Against his will, I’d reckon. With a lot of pain. And not a little anger.” The contents flickered, a spark of bright green lighting in one and answered in the other.

“I can sense the Light,” Roshan said quietly.

Ohira nodded. “You ain’t wrong. Mara tortured him with the Light as he gave this blood. We gotta extract that Light to cleanse it.” She turned to Therin, her eyebrows raised expectantly.

Tensing his jaw and rolling his eyes in annoyance, Therin withdrew the clawed tool from his shirt, the gemstones of pure Light flickering at his touch.

“I just wanted to hand it over to Devan,” he said defensively as Noran glared at him. Roshan’s dark eyes widened as Ohira held her hand out for him to put on the clawed tool. He shook his head and made to take a step back but she caught his wrist and met his eyes.

“Therin’s hands ain’t gonna fit,” she said reasonably. “Noran ain’t gonna be able to command it and I ain’t human enough.” Time stretched on as they waited for Roshan to slip his thin fingers into the monstrous tool.

“What do I have to do?” he whispered as he flexed his hand and the silver joints clicked softly.

“Them are Lightstones, condensed Light. They ain’t really rare, just hard to make, and they help focus the Light. Paladins used to have to craft one to put on their mace as their final trial but now they have the Ka’Ti make these for them. It’s faster and ain’t cost the paladins none of their power, you see.”

“They look like topaz,” Noran remarked. “Just brighter.”

“Aye,” Ohira agreed. “That’s why witches ain’t allowed topaz as soulstones. Too many risks of accidentally binding a spirit with a Lightstone.” She turned back to Roshan and nodded encouragingly.

“You just use them in reverse. Don’t focus your Light into them, but use them to attract the Light in the blood and absorb that Light into yourself. Ain’t gonna hurt.” Ohira patted him gently on the arm and he nodded. “Not that much anyway.”

Roshan, choosing to ignore her last comment, reached the clawed hand out and held it over the two necklaces. Immediately, the blood inside them flared bright green, crackles of Light dancing between them.

“Ain’t gotta overthink it, boy,” Ohira said, watching his face change in consternation. “Just ask the Lightstones to get the wayward Light and pass it onto you.” His brows, knit in thought, relaxed and a quick smile slipped to his lips.

Therin felt the stones on the clawed tool call to him, asking him to give his Light over and he took a step back, shaking his head.

“Not from me,” he said and Roshan threw him an apologetic smile. The pull fell away and Therin relaxed. He felt the seeking feeling focus on the necklaces and suddenly Roshan grunted in pain, his hair standing on end. The necklaces shook and rattled on the table, fighting Roshan’s request, but with a high whine first one and then the other dimmed, their colour fading to the bright green of the crystal in the chamber. Two of the Lightstones on the clawed weapon flared brighter.

“Now, you gotta ask the Lightstones to give you the Light back.” Ohira directed. Sweat beading on his upper lip, Roshan nodded once and held out his hand, the Lightstones flickering. The hair on Therin’s arms rose as Roshan gritted his teeth and then clenched his hand into a fist, digging the claw tips into his palm. Blood dripped from his outstretched hand. His body lit with his wild Light, coursing around him dangerously.

He staggered, dropping to one knee and Noran reached out to catch him but stopped himself at the last second, Ohira’s hand staying him. Roshan’s eyes were wide, as though he were seeing something incredible, his teeth still clenched.

“What do you see, boy?” Ohira asked.

“I see him,” Roshan grunted. “I see the Father. He says I must offer something…in return for the Light.”

“Then offer him something,” Ohira said wisely.

“But I don’t have–”

“Something you ain’t got a need for,” Ohira suggested. “Something you ain’t used in awhile.” Roshan blinked and looked at the crone, about to argue but before he could speak, she turned his bare left hand, clenched shut against his thigh and opened it. Therin saw that her fingers traced a scarred witch’s brand. “Offer him what you ain’t got no use for, boy.”

Roshan turned back to the vision only he could see, nodding once, his brow furrowed.

Therin felt the tone of the wild Light change, flickering a faint purple. His skin tingled, the Light inside him responding to Roshan’s swell of Light. Roshan’s gritted teeth opened and he screamed in pain. The purple faded and the Light flared around him, blinding. Suddenly, Roshan was screaming, not in pain but in triumph. Blood trickled down his wrist as he lowered his hand and he dropped the clawed tool, letting it clatter on the floor. He clutched his left hand to him, and as he fell into Noran’s waiting arms, his hand fell away, open. Therin saw that it was clear of the witch’s brand.

He stood and grabbed Ohira by the arm, pulling her away from the other two. He opened the door, shoved her outside and only then released the wizened woman.

“What did he offer?” He demanded.

“His witch’s blood.” The crone met his eyes. “Roshan was branded a witch.”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“He was.” Ohira said. “It’s a custom the Ka’Ti have for all their girls.”

“But he’s a Blademaster–” Therin started but he stopped, suddenly understanding. Ohira patted his cheek gently.

“He can go home anytime he wants now, I reckon. Ain’t no one gonna deny him his right to be Blademaster now that he ain’t a witch no more.” She moved to open the door but stopped and turned back to him. “Maybe it’s time you had a talk with your new friend, Master Therin.”