The Binding
“Come quickly, my son,” Zaylon said. “The Heart of the Earth waits and It is not known for patience.”
His voluminous tri-layer robes of gold on white on silver made him seem to glide up the marble steps. Drex followed him, hands in fists at his side and struggling to keep up.
“I know, Father,” Drex answered, his voice tight with worry but he was surprised to find that his voice did not tremor. Three years ago when he’d first seen the temple, his voice had squeaked like new leather shoes. Looking up at the vast, pillared entrance to the Wellspring, he felt very much the same as that young boy.
A shard of white light above the temple caught his eye and drew his gaze above the clouds to the place where the energy of souls, that precious lifespark, rode streams of light.
The Worldstream.
Four streams of milky white light converged high above the temple and shot down through the clouds and into an opening in the roof--the end of a journey that started from the distant Wells and ended at the Wellspring.
I’m actually going to the place where God lives.
Drex stopped. His hands trembled. His uniform was too hot. A thick midnight blue cloak on top of white breastplate with a padded gambeson underneath that. How did anyone run around in all that without feeling like they were being boiled alive?
And to top it off, his warrior’s knot made his hair feel like it was stretched tighter than a drumskin.
But it feels all wrong, he thought. Like I’m playing a game of Triads and Leechers instead of becoming one of the Triad Warriors.
“I want to be a Speaker, like you,” Drex said at last.
Zaylon descended back down the steps until he was standing next to Drex. The old man’s Speaker robes hung loose on his knobby shoulders as he leaned toward Drex, his orchid-blue eyes soft with understanding.
“You’re afraid aren’t you?” he asked.
Three Speakers stood at the top of the hundred steps before the dark opening into the temple. Three silvery cloaked guards waited beside them with bright swords--Steel Cloaks. The elite fighting men of the Wellspring, they protected the Speakers who in turn protected the balance.
Men who could kill you in the blink of an eye.
That was what becoming a Triad Warrior would mean, killing those who sought to disrupt the balance of life and death.
The leechers.
“I don’t want to kill anyone, Zaylon,” Drex said, the tremor returning to his voice. “I-I want to feed the orphans of Damastin. I want to get them off the streets and save them from lives of thievery like you did for me. Tess says that the Triads have swords that drink people’s lifespark--their souls!”
Zaylon drew himself up to his full height. When he spoke his voice was still kind, but also as firm and unyielding as steel.
“Child, Whatever will you do? Run? I believe I raised you better than that.”
Drex bowed his head.
“Tess didn’t run when it was time to bring her this morning, and yet, where were you?”
“Hiding.”
“Oh, my dear son.” Zaylon put his hands on Drex’s shoulders. “We all have our roles to play in the Heart of the Earth’s design. It balances the fate of the world like a plate teetering on a jadestone. If we don’t do our part, that delicate balance will be broken.”
“I know,” Drex said, clenching his hands into fists. “But don’t you think I should be allowed to choose what my role is?”
“What a kind fate that would be?” he said with a fragile smile. “But our roles are given by the Heart of the Earth’s design. Our choice truly lies in deciding how or why we fulfill them.” He pointed to the dark entryway of the Wellspring. “I know that that it is a hard thing to ask of you, to abandon your childhood dream, but I promise it is needed. Now, will you choose again to run or will you gather your courage and walk forward to meet your destiny?”
Drex didn’t answer at first, instead he stopped and focused on his surroundings. The wind carried the sweet spring scents of pollen and honey. It reminded Drex of freedom. Of running where he chose to--and yes stealing, too. He wasn’t a cutpurse anymore, but he still stole a pie now and then.
But underneath there was another smell, something rotten and foul. The smell of refuse left out for the pigs. It reminded Drex of someone else, someone tall and strong who did what he wished without regard for who it hurt. Someone who didn’t care if he left a young girl or two in a pool of blood.
His old thief warden, Darroun.
Drex was under his wing before Zaylon saved him from that life. He didn’t know what he would have become if not for Zaylon’s care, but it certainly wouldn’t have been anyone good. That was what too much freedom did to Drex. He needed duty to keep him on the right path.
And to stop men like Darroun. The leechers had plenty like him, men who killed for the lifespark so they could extend their miserable lives and didn’t give two stones about who they hurt on the way. Someone had to stop men like that.
Drex clenched his jaw and continued up the steps, but Zaylon didn’t follow.
“I can’t come,” Zaylon said from behind him. “The oath is meant for you alone. Bring Tess to visit when you get a chance.”
Drex nodded, his mouth too dry to answer.
He walked the rest of the steps, his heart pounding in his ears. The Speakers and guards in shimmering cloaks at the top of the steps watched him come. Their garb flowed like cloth, but shone like steel, one of the remnants of an ancient artifice that was all but lost.
“They are waiting,” one of the Speakers said. He lifted a sparklight lantern from a pedestal next to the entrance and turned its brass knob. A bright violet light flared to life from an amethyst under the glass.
The Speaker stepped through the dark entrance, violet light chasing back the shadows. He motioned for Drex to follow. Drex stepped in after them and the Steel Cloaks took their place behind him.
A frantic fear clawed at Drex’s heart, but he didn’t dare look back. What would the Steel Cloaks do if he did? What if he ran now? Would they kill him?
That’s foolishness, Drex chided himself. You made your choice, now stick to it.
The passage opened at the bottom of the steps into a wide chamber with a tall, vaulted ceiling. It was lit only by the Worldstream. A white stream of light cascaded from the opening in the ceiling into a wide fount where it changed into a shimmering pool of more colors than Drex could count.
The Wellspring.
The dwelling place of the Heart of the Earth.
God.
Drex shivered to think of what the creator of Sintara would see in him when he took his oath.
No missteps, Drex thought, but the words felt intrusive. He’d heard stories of the Heart of the Earth placing thoughts in Its subjects and wondered if that had just happened to him.
By the edge of the pool knelt a large man with auburn hair threaded with grey, and a young, broad-shouldered girl with golden hair. Gallendus Morathane and Tesslyne Dayne. They too were dressed in the white armor and midnight blue cloaks of the Triad warriors.
He’d met Gallendus the day before. He was the lone survivor of the two previous Triads. Drex couldn’t imagine such a thing. Being bound to one was bad enough, but to have that binding ripped apart twice was unthinkable. A broken binding drove most men mad, but Zaylon had told him that Gallendus had a will more immovable than temple stone.
He’d known Tess his whole life. Zaylon had raised them together in his orphanage. The fact she was taking this journey with him gave him a measure of peace.
The highest rank Worldspeakers stood on either side of Tess and Gallendus, dressed in voluminous tri-layer robes of a different set of colors: white on green on blue. Drex had never been in the presence of the highest ranked Speakers before. The bright lights behind them cast their faces in ominous shadow.
As Drex started over to the edge of the pool, one of the Worldspeakers nodded his shadowed face toward the stairs.
Drex hurried back over to where a gruff-looking man in a leather apron stood waiting. He knelt when Drex approached and lifted a sheathed sword with two hands. Drex reached out cautiously and closed his hand around the hilt. The white leather grip was so soft that it seemed to grip his hand back as he held it. He admired the star-shaped grey stone at the center of the cross guard, and the sheath’s silver filigree that swirled in complex circular patterns over the whitewood.
It was the finest thing he’d ever held.
Drex tied the sword belt tight around his waist and took his place next to Gallendus and Tess beside the pool. The light gathered there moved like water, rippling without being touched. But it was also less substantial, a liquid with a substance closer to smoke than water.
“It is time,” one of the shadowed Worldspeakers said as soon as Drex had knelt next to Tess. “Touch your swords together and say the words.”
Drex drew his sword at the same time as Tess and Gallendus. The older man winced as he lifted his, a blade that was pale gold instead of burnished steel. He looked as though there was something about the sword that caused him immense pain.
Gallendus’ eyes narrowed and the pained expression was gone. He gave Drex and Tess a pointed look and the three of them stretched their blades forth together. Drex’s hand trembled, making his sword clatter against the others, but another sharp glare from Gallendus made him steady his arm.
“W-we swear--” Drex started and blushed as he realized he’d started ahead of the others.
He tried again and this time he spoke at the right time, but Tess was late.
On the third attempt they finally got the timing right and spoke the oath together.
“We swear to protect the souls of the dead--that precious lifespark--from those who would take it, and in turn, the Heart of the Earth protects us. We are Its eyes, Its dutiful hands and sharpened swords. We swear to protect the balance of life and death with our blood. May our lifespark be void if we break our oath.”
“Together now,” Gallendus said as soon as they were done.
Drex tightened his grip, but his hand was so sweaty that he feared the sword would shoot out of his fingers and be lost in the pool. Somehow, he held on and lowered his sword in unison with the other two blades.
As soon as their weapons touched the Wellspring, the swords hissed like red-hot steel being quenched. Cerulean steam rose from the weapons, and immediately shifted its color to sky blue then jade then back to the original cerulean as though it couldn’t decide what color it should be.
Drex felt an uncomfortable warmth in his head like someone had their fingers inside it. He shuddered and nearly dropped his sword. The warmth in his head increased and more of the steam rose into the air. The steam changed colors so rapidly now that each shade had only just flickered into existence before it changed again.
“Hold your swords tight now,” Gallendus said. “Here comes the hard part.”
At Gallendus’s word, the warmth in Drex’s head went from fever-warm to nearly as hot as a burning pyre. He wanted to let go of the sword, to grab his skull with both hands, and scream. But he could feel pieces of his mind shifting around and he was afraid they might fall out if he let go.
The swords gave a great hiss and the vapors turned starry white. Drex thought he saw two great eyes open in the Wellstream, one scarlet and one black.
Something prodded Drex’s head from the inside and it burned like being stabbed with a fire poker. His vision went white.
Abruptly, the heat and the pain stopped, leaving only the echo of the hot, burning sensation that had been there a moment before.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Tess breathing hard, her gold hair matted to her face with sweat.
“Take them out now,” Gallendus said. “They don’t have to touch anymore, just pull them out.”
Drex pulled his sword from the stream of light, though now the white steam was so thick he couldn’t quite see his blade. He pulled it closer and held it up to examine it. The steam emanated a white light, as though the Heart of the Earth wanted him to see Its work. The steel had turned the pale gold color of sunlight.
Only one thing left, a deep voice thrummed in Drex’s head, but much louder than his normal thoughts. Can you hear my words?
It came so suddenly that it made Drex jump. The voice belonged to Gallendus.
I-I, yes. I can hear you, Drex said in his head, but Gallendus looked at him when he thought it, so he knew he must have heard it too.
This is brilliant, Tess said and gave Drex a wide grin.
Then it’s done, Gallendus said. The mindlink has been formed. You are now Triads.
And Drex knew with a sinking feeling in his gut that there would be no going back.
Chapter 1: Six years later
Six years after his Triad oath, Drex knelt in front of his home altar. He was not yet dressed in his Triad armor, only in his white tunic and leather trousers. The humid early morning air made them cling to his skin like wet grass.
Why now? He thought.
The call to protect the harvest of lifespark had come the day before, as swift and unexpected as a lightning strike from a clear blue sky. Drex had been working in one of the rice fields of Brecken Vale with Sal to earn a few bags of rice to supplement the food he brought home with his Triad wages. A white-cloaked Watcher had shot down the dirt road on his grey stallion and rode straight into the rice field, crushing half-a-dozen rice stalks before he halted.
“The Heart of the Earth has spoken to the Worldspeakers,” the grim-faced man had said. “The harvest begins. You must go to Damastin.”
Drex had simply nodded. That was the life of a Triad. Drex spent far more time away from Brecken Vale than he did in it.
He’d thought about ignoring the Watchers and staying in the Vale when the call had come a few times before, but every young Triad Warrior learned the folly of that early on. Those who broke their oaths brought the justice of the Judicators. You didn’t have to see more than one man dragged away from his family in chains before the lesson sunk in.
Triad oaths only end when you’ve exhaled your last breath and Speakers and their harvesters come for your lifespark.
Drex lit the incense sticks cloistered atop his black walnut altar with a thin stick he’d lit in his hearth. He blew the lighting stick out after and watched the thin tendrils of smoke rise from the incense into the air. He breathed in the scents of jasmine and sandalwood and bowed his head to the marble statuette of the Heart of the Earth at their center. Two open eyes in an amorphous, smoke-like form wrought in stone.
The Heart of the Earth watches us all, Drex Alder.
Drex gritted his teeth at his father’s words. He hated the idea that the great, unblinking eyes of god were on him, watching all he did. What choice did one have with the awareness of such a being focused on them?
Drex picked up his sheathed sunsword and held it in front of his chest. He felt the slight prickle of energy in his hilt as his sword’s voice came to him. Lifebringer had yet to speak its first words, so it spoke to him in emotions. The voice was hungry. Like a steel-wrought beast with the scent of fresh blood.
Drex closed his eyes and pushed Lifebringer’s hunger aside. He acknowledged it--it would be foolish to do otherwise. His sunsword was as much a part of him as his strong right arm. But he didn’t let it have control. He had to let go of his stronger emotions if he was going to speak with the Heart of the Earth.
In this, too, he had no choice. His wife needed help.
“Heart of the Earth, hear my words,” Drex started. He felt a powerful awareness focus on him as he spoke.
“In an hour, I will leave to protect the harvest of souls. I know this is something I must do, I made the oath in the Wellspring and I can’t hide from it.”
How could I hide from you?
“I’ve seen the lifespark harvested and seen the color of men’s souls. I’ve seen lifespark caught up in the Wells and carried in the Worldstream back to the Wellspring where all life returns. I don’t need to be told how important this work is.”
Drex paused, searching for words and continued. “I don’t want to go. I know it would be foolish to hide my desires from you. I never wanted this oath to begin with, but I’ve tried to keep it.”
Drex looked down at the black silk ribbon that hung out of his trouser pocket. A gift from his wife. “Alyssa is sick. But I know that asking not to go would be as foolish as trying to hold back the wind.”
And your Judicators would carry me away if I didn’t.
“Sorry,” Drex continued. “I shouldn’t complain, but after all I’ve done. After everyone I’ve killed in your name,” Drex bit his lip as the image of a bloody face came to him. The boy was too young to be a leecher. He never should have been there. Drex hadn’t even know how young he was until the mask had come off.
He let out a slow breath and refocused on his prayer. “I wouldn’t ask for it, but I’m worried about Alyssa. The sickness has lasted longer than it should and she carries our child. I will do anything you ask if you make her better. I’ll root out the leecher, find their hidden strongholds, kill those who protect them. Or do nothing but protect the harvest if that is what you desire. I’ll br--"
Warmth blossomed in Drex’s chest, stopping him. Not the blood-pumping warmth that comes from danger, but something deeper down. Like the pleasant hearth-warmth he felt when he came home from a harvest to see his wife again. A flood of images followed on its tail, flashing in his mind.
Wild, thick-furred prowlers hunting in a forest of redbark trees that seeped blood-red sap. A grey-skinned baby on a stone floor. His wife Alyssa smiling up at him, her sharp blue eyes bright. A room with a dozen babies in straw baskets and four nursemaids that ran between them. The maids were not Sintaran, but foreigners. Sunstrider Islanders with long, black hair and coppery-red skin.
Drex exhaled sharply and the images were gone. With them, the awareness of the Heart of the Earth had vanished.
What kind of answer was that? Drex thought.
He rose, anger welling up in his heart. The Heart of the Earth had never given him answers to anything that made sense.
He took a deep breath and tried and failed to let go of his anger. Instead, he buried it in the secret doors of his heart where it wouldn’t trouble him anymore. He would deal with it later. For now, he had to prepare himself. He would be expected in Damastin two weeks from now. It meant that he had less than an hour to pack up and leave the Vale.
Precious little time to spend with his wife.
He added some wood to the fire of his hearth and found Old Lyla worrying over Alyssa at her bedside. Lyla’s white-streaked grey hair hung over the front of her shoulder in a long braid. She didn’t look up when Drex approached. Her eyes focused on the gentle rhythm of Alyssa’s breathing.
“How is she?” Drex whispered.
“Better,” Lyla said.
“That’s good,” he said automatically, his voice tight. He knew by the way she said it, she meant better, but not much. “Will you help me with my armor, Lyla? I would find someone else, but I don’t have the time.”
Lyla smiled. “Of course, Drex.”
Her dark eyes were tight with worry as they moved over to Drex’s armor stand. Lyla had never had any children of her own, but that didn’t make her any less motherly. The villagers of Brecken Vale were all her children. Whenever a child fell from a tree, whenever a mule got spooked and bucked a farmer, she was there. That care was doubled in Alyssa case. Probably because she’d cared for Alyssa through a terrible accident that had left her skirts bloody when she was younger. That was also the reason Alyssa had insisted on Lyla as her midwife.
Drex appreciated it, but something about her presence made him question if he was doing enough. Alyssa was his Heart-voided wife. Shouldn’t he be the one making her better?
But that was foolishness, of course. He didn’t know the first thing about delivering a baby. Or healing a fever. He had to trust Lyla’s knowledge.
Lyla patted him on his back as they finished strapping his armor in place. It would have been safer to have a helm, but that was impossible. A helmet of any kind made the Triad mindlink unpredictable, so it was better to do without.
He picked up his sunsword last and tied the sword belt around his waist. Lifebringer whispered gleefully as Drex worked with bustling efficiency, packing food, rope and other essentials for the road ahead. He had just finished tucking three knives into his belt when he heard Alyssa stir.
Drex looked over at the bed. She wasn’t awake yet, but she would be soon. Then he would have to say his farewell.
“I should be going,” Lyla said when she saw the look on Drex’s face. “I have to look after Aldin. A broken arm is not a thing to be taken lightly.”
After she was gone, Drex opened a window to let a little light in. It was warm enough inside that a little air from the outside shouldn’t bother her. A soft breeze blew in and Drex smelt dewy grass and pine needles. Good morning smells. Satisfied, he walked back over to the bed and put his had over the blue and white quilt that covered his wife.
He felt a flicker of warmth like a freshly lit candle the moment he rested his hand over her round belly--the lifespark of their unborn child. For a moment, he blessed the connection that his Triad initiation at the had brought him. Not just a connection to his Triad and his sunsword, but to the Worldstream and the world it flowed through. And at this particular moment it told him something about his unborn child he never could have known without it.
It’s a boy.
He’d always wanted a son, ever since his father Zaylon had adopted him off the streets of Damastin. He hoped he could be as good a father to the child who was coming to him.
“Drex,” Alyssa said and her eyes flickered open. The fever sweat made her black hair stick to her face like runaway ink trails.
“Don’t get up,” Drex said as his wife started to push herself up. “Lyla would have a fit if she saw you trying to get up so quickly.”
“Well, she isn’t here, is she,” Alyssa said smartly. “And I can’t really see my husband off properly lying down, now can I? Where is she anyways?”
“Lyla left to look after Aldin,” Drex said. He hugged his wife around the waist and helped lift her to a sitting position. She wore only a common woolen homespun gown, but Drex couldn’t help but think that she looked beautiful in it. She always did look especially striking in white.
“Did you remember everything?” Alyssa asked. “Did you get the rice and pickled eggs?”
“Yes.”
“And the extra blanket?”
“Yes.”
“And the silk favor I made for you.”
“Alyse,” Drex said genlty. “It’s like you don’t know me.”
He pulled the favor out from where he’d deposited it in his cloak pocket. A black ribbon of silk with a simple message embroided on it: DA&AA. Drex Alder and Alyssa Alder. Alyssa had made it the first time he’d left her to protect a harvest. He’d never left without it since.
“Use it to tie your hair back,” she said smartly. “Your silver-gold hair is going to stand out like treasure to the leecher crossbows.”
Drex nodded and tied his long hair into a warrior’s knot and pulled his cloak hood over it.
He saw her watching him and noticed that subtle glare of hers that she only used when she was angry about something, but had decided she wasn’t going to say anything about it until he puzzled it out.
“Alyse,” he said. “Why are you angry with me? You know I wouldn’t leave unless I had to.”
“I know.”
“If I don’t leave the Judicators will just send a dozen of their Watchers to bring me. I don’t really have much of a choice.” He quirked one corner of his mouth up into wry grin. “Of course, I’d have to kill them all to send the right message. Something that says, to the void with you, my wife is with child.”
Alyssa grabbed his hand and laughed. “That would be nice. It has been awhile since you killed anyone for me.”
“Alright then, I’ll stay. And I’ll slay their Watchers.” He picked up a black hairpin from the small bedside table and slashed it like a mock sword. “Then they’ll send fifty more and I’ll slay them too. They’ll send Judicator Sheeran himself and he’ll come with a hundred men and finally I’ll die by his sword, my soul sucked out by his sunsword and I’ll yell, ‘Alyssa!’ with my last breath.”
“And they’ll sing songs of our love for a hundred years,” Alyssa said with a flourish. “Drex Alder killed sixty-two men to stay at his sick wife’s bedside. In all the history of Sintara, no man--“
Alyssa coughed. The dry wheeze shook her like a rice stalk in a windstorm. Drex smelt something coppery and bitter. When she pulled her hand away from her mouth, it was speckled with blood.
“I’m not going,” Drex said.
Alyssa pulled a handkerchief from where it was draped over the bed post and wiped her hand. “Don’t be a fool,” she said. “What will Tess and Gallendus do without you? Who will protect the lifespark from the leechers? Those souls deserve the chance to return to their maker, Drex Alder. If their journey is stopped because they are stolen, that is on your head.”
Alyssa sighed, some of the hardness leaving her voice. “Besides, you made an oath. You must keep it. And what good would you do me here anyways?”
He ground his teeth together. “I could cook you meals, make you comfortable, bring you warm water when you need it. I--“
“Lyla already does that.” Alyssa dabbed her lips with the handkerchief. “If you really want to help, then speak with the apothecaries in Damastin. Bring me back one of their remedies, something we can’t get here in Brecken Vale.”
Drex nodded. His wife was right, of course. If he tried to stay, the Judicators would just come to take him away or execute him and what help would he be to his Alyse then? The best way for him to help her was to bring Lyla herbs from Damastin. With just a few remedies she might work wonders. Even heal Alyssa.
And he had made an oath. When he’d dipped his sword into the Wellspring, he’d seen something looking back at him from its depths. The Heart of the Earth saw everything he did, there was nothing that escaped its sight. And even if it didn’t, even if he could hide from the Heart and keep the Judicators from coming, there was still Gallendus and Tess. His wife was right, if he stayed anything that happened to his Triad would be on his head.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” Drex said firmly. He leaned forward and kissed Alyssa on the forehead. He winced at the feverish warmth of her skin.
He slung his pack over his shoulder and turned away from his wife. In moments, he was out the door and on his way to fight leechers and who knew what else.
Chapter 2: Lifespark
Drex came to the end of the Old City Road two weeks later on a trundling whitewood carriage that rattled more than an old sage’s teeth at winter. He could already see the off-white color of the city walls--the filth that centuries of storms had added to the once-white stone. It contrasted starkly with the crimson of the early morning sky, like ancient bones beside a pool of blood.
My old home, Drex thought.
Other carriages moved along the road ahead of them, mostly merchants with cumbersome carts packed to the brim with wares, but their conveyance was more traditional than Drex’s. They drove carts pulled by mules or draft horses that brayed or whinnied protests as they were urged forward. Drex’s carriage on the other hand was driven only by lifespark--the energy of souls.
“Don’t worry, Mister Drex,” his carriage driver, Haster said. “Ya be to Damastin sooner n’ a rat to a sewer.”
Drex nodded to the driver sitting next to him in the driver’s box of the carriage. Haster was stout with thinning grey hair and wore a homespun brown cloak that should have been replaced a long time ago. He also had a peculiar coloring to his skin, the reddish-gold skin tones of the the old amberskins. Pretty much everyone had at least a dollop of their coloring, but Haster had far more than most. He might have been as much as a quarter amberskin.
He was also a harvester, one of those responsible for extracting lifespark of common folk, the souls thought to be too lowly for the holy Speakers to harvest--the poor, the destitute, criminals and basically anyone else the Speakers didn’t want to be bothered with. They also carried all of the harvested lifespark that had coalesced into gems in pouches at their waists. This made them prime targets for leechers.
Haster flexed the dull grey-specked fingers of his tarnished silver gauntlet. Three gems of green, blue and violet were set in the handplate. The green one glowed with a warm light. The glass cylinder of the storm-column at the front of the carriage shook in turn. Grey clouds beneath the glass roiled, crackling with electric green energy.
“Gems near full, Mister Drex,” Haster said, noticing Drex watching him use the tarnished silverhand.
Drex nodded.
“Aye, a lifespark gem is not a thing to be wastin’. ‘Course Heart o’ the Earth takes care of the lifespark we use fer gettin’ about, takin’ spent energy back to ‘em an’ all that. No way round usin’ it though, havestin’ spark is ‘portant work.”
Drex let out a soft chuckle. That wasn’t exactly how it worked. Spent energy did get back to the Heart of the Earth eventually, but it took a great deal more time. The Worldspeakers said it was a necessary sacrifice on the part of those souls to ensure that their brother and sister lifespark gems made it to the Great Wells to rejoin the Worldstream.
But of course, he wasn’t going to say that to Haster.
“That was almost a sermon, Haster,” he said. “Are you sure you aren’t hiding a Speaker’s robes under that cloak?”
“Bless me spark, but that’d be a thing. No, Mister Drex. Jus’ a harvester keepin’ his duty. Gallendus told me to bring ya and that’s what I’m doin’.”
The carriage jumped over a rut in the dirt road. Drex grabbed the arm bar to steady himself clutched his pack at his feet to keep it from flying onto the road.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Haster said.
They were nearly to Damastin’s gate now and could see the Worldstream just above the black iron teeth of the portcullis. The stream of white light ran east to west, winding in a sinuous course, like water trying to find the surest path down the mountain. Bright lights like hidden stars gleamed within the milky stream, lifespark taking its journey back to the Heart of the Earth for judgement. There it would either be reborn into life or voided out from existence based on how the soul had lived.
Be merciful, Drex pleaded.
Drex brought his thoughts back into focus on his purpose. First, I’ll report to Gallendus. Then I’ll find Alyssa’s remedies. Then visit my father. He wished he could find Alyssa’s remedies first, but Gallendus would be expecting to see him as soon as he arrived, and he didn’t think his Triad Commander would look too kindly on him diverting Haster somewhere else before then.
But I must have the remedies before I leave Damastin, he reminded himself.
The carriage jolted forward and came to another stop and Drex looked up to see that they were finally the next in line to enter the city. He breathed a sigh of relief as the gatekeeper finished speaking with the merchant in front of them.
“On you go,” the gatekeeper said, waving the merchant on with his heavy ledger. The portcullis rose with a metallic creak. The merchant’s mule hawed in protest, but after the merchant whipped its arse with a willow branch, it pulled the overstuffed cart through.
The green gem on Haster’s silverhand glowed once more, rattling the storm-column and making the carriage lurch forward to the black iron teeth of the portcullis just as it slammed back down.
The gatekeeper approached on Drex’s side of the carriage. He was a portly man with a long wispy mustache that extended almost down to his chest.
“What have we here?” The gate keeper said, looking up at Drex through his spectacles. “Triad business, eh? Haven’t I already cleared two of you today?”
“That be Gallendus n’ Tess,” Haster said. “How long ago they pass through?”
The gate keeper gave a stiff grunt and turned back to Drex. “Why aren’t you with them? Usually Triads come in threes.”
Drex felt a warm anger start to smolder in his chest. The fact that most harvesters were paying some sort of penance made most folk uncomfortable around them, but he still didn’t like it when they were outright ignored.
“You didn’t answer Haster’s question,” he said.
The gate keeper nodded. “If you want to know, sir, I’ll tell you. They came through early morning, not two hours ago. I wondered why there were only two of them.”
Drex narrowed his eyes and pointed at Haster. “Why didn’t you answer him?”
“Excuse me sir,” the gate keeper whispered. “I don’t like their kind. They’re criminals. Degenerates.”
Drex felt his cheeks grow hot. “You have no right--“
“S’alright,” Haster said kindly. “No need to be upset on my behalf, Mister Drex. I know what I did. I’m happy to pay fer it.”
“That doesn’t give him right to pretend you don’t exist,” Drex said hotly. “Gate keeper, give Haster your apology.”
“S’alright,” Haster said more emphatically. “If ya try to get an apology from every man who treats me low, we’ll never find Gallendus.”
Drex ground his teeth but nodded. “Fine. Gate keeper, may we pass?”
“It’s a good harvester who knows his place,” the gate keeper said. “Are you bringing anything into the city?”
“Only provisions for the road and weapons for protecting the harvest.”
“Good,” the gatekeeper said with a nod. “The rest of your Triad are inspecting a murder in gold district. We’ve had too many of those of late.” He clucked his tongue. “Shame.”
He waved to his man on the parapets and the great iron teeth of the portcullis rose again. Haster opened the hand of his silverhand and the green lifespark gem glowed in answer. The storm-column sparked and sputtered to life and the carriage moved through the gate.
#
The sight of Damastin’s grey cobblestone streets brought back a flood of memories. An alley where Drex used to cut the purses of unwary merchants. The old dried up canal where he used to sleep to keep the wind off at night. A marketplace where he used to spend nights begging when he failed to steal enough for Darroun’s liking.
“The Copper District is where I used to live, along with the other dregs of Damastin,” Drex said, half to himself. “Beggars and swindlers. When I was adopted by my father, Zaylon, I moved to the silver district. I never came anywhere close to the gold district.”
“Fer true?” Haster asked. “Yeh were a copper man?”
The strain of the driving the carriage all day was evident on Haster’s round face. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his eyes had dark circles beneath them.
“Don’t worry ‘bout me,” Haster said when he saw the look on Drex’s face. “Be finishin’ me task soon, then I’ll be getting’ a spot of rest. ‘sides, a murdered man is serious business.”
“Especially in the gold district,” Drex added. “When I lived here I rarely heard of murders in that area. Some gold men are better guarded than city magistrates.”
“Almost sound like yeh’ve done one in.”
Drex laughed. “The thought crossed my mind once or twice, but no. Only a fool would kill a gold man in Damastin. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
Haster nodded and his eyes narrowed on his silverhand. Sweat dripped down his brow and onto his cloak. The green gem’s glow started to fade and a luminous green smoke rose from it into air until only an empty socket where it had been. The glowing smoke drifted quickly upward and Drex watched it until it soared out of sight.
When he looked back at Haster’s gauntlet a blue gem was already glowing and the electric energy under the glass of the storm column had taken on its color.
Drex turned back to the road, trying not to think about how hard it was for Haster to push their transports. He’d once thought it was an easy thing to use a soul’s energy. After all, it wasn’t really your energy, it was something else’s. That was before Gallendus told him the truth of it.
They aren’t just using spark, son. They’re connecting to those gathered souls and convincing them to give up their energy for the greater good. It’s terribly hard work, worse than a full day fighting and then some.
Speakers were able to do it, but they rarely did. It was regarded by most as grunt work reserved for the lowest dregs of society. Which was where the harvester came in.
Haster exhaled sharply and the carriage came to a stop.
“Here we are,” Haster said. He looked up and whistled. “This one had coin to spare.”
The manse in front of them was carved from granite that was polished so well that every surface gleamed as brightly as a newly minted coin. Broad pillars with gold tinged cornices supported a sturdy stone awning above a wide whitewood door with a gold handle. A pair of guards in skull caps and mail shirts stood on either side of the door, plain armaments for guards of a goldman.
A bas-relief above the door caught Drex’s eye. It depicted the classical journey of the lifespark as told by the Speakers of the Order. A star-shaped lifespark at the left side of the relief shot down to Sintara and became a newborn child. The child transformed next into a blunt featured man who endured the vicissitudes of life. At the right of the relief another star-shaped spark rose from an old man’s chest--with the help of a robed figure with a silverhand, of course. Then the robed figure released the lifespark and it circled back above the relief to the far left to begin again.
Drex wondered how this murdered man felt about that journey now that someone had taken the gift of living from him.
He jumped down and flung his pack into the coach. He was at the door of the building before he realized Haster wasn’t following.
“Go on, Mister Drex,” Haster said. “Haster will be waitin’ right here when yeh return.”
Drex nodded. A high-profile murder like this would require the attention of a Speaker, not a lowly harvester like Haster.
Drex put his hand on the pommel of his sunsword. Lifebringer spoke an eager hunger with a metallic ping in Drex’s head. It had smelt the blood through Drex’s senses.
Drex took his hand off the pommel and shook Lifebringer’s craving from his head. Most of the time his sunsword’s cravings weren’t dangerous, but it was best not to risk it. The guards waved him up and opened the door.
“Careful with him!” A woman’s shrill voice complained.
“Let them do their work, Ma,” a boy answered.
“What if they damage his spark?”
“They won’t, Ma.”
“But what if they do?”
“They’re Speakers and Triads, Ma. They know how this work is done.”
The two voices belonged to a red-faced mother and son sitting on cushioned chairs on the east side of the room. Both wore black, a silk shirt and fine hose on the boy. The mother wore a snug silk dress with the silver symbol of the lupine prowler knit over her breast.
Drex froze and followed their eyes to the body at the center of the room.
The murdered gold man.
His body lay in the center of the room on the polished floor with one arm pointing out from his side like he was reaching for something. The broken black shaft of a crossbow bolt jutted out of his temple, pointing straight up at the ceiling. The body smelt strongly of perfume, but Drex could still smell the rotten scent that it concealed.
Gallendus and Tess stood over the body on its left side, wearing grim expressions. On the other side of the body stood two Speakers. One Drex knew, Kartha, a grey-haired woman who was the leader of their harvesting caravan. The other Speaker was a dark-haired youth Drex had never seen before, most likely a new addition to Kartha’s order. Both wore the traditional tri-layer silk robes of Speakers who guided the harvest: gold on white on silver. Silver infinity symbols hung from chains around their necks.
That’s a leecher bolt, Drex thought. He wanted to move closer to body, but he didn’t dare interrupt when the lifespark was obviously about to be harvested.
“It’s alright, Brelden,” Kartha said, putting one hand on the boy’s shoulder for reassurance. “Just like you’ve done before.”
The boy nodded and stretched forth a tremulous silverhand. Unlike Haster’s gauntlet that was tarnished with dull grey specks, it had a burnished shine like a polished suit of armor. Speakers as a rule revered their silverhands whereas harvesters merely viewed them as tools. The origins of their silverhands were as different as they could be, one the armaments of the purest of the pure and the other the discarded gauntlets of heretics.
But Drex was more interested in another variation, the fact that Brelden’s silverhand had no gems in the handplate. Only empty sockets where gems might have been.
Brelden’s eyes shut tight and his thin eyebrows knit together in concentration. At first the room was still and silent except for the anxious whispers of the dead man’s relatives. Then light gathered like dew drops in the center of the man’s chest, coalescing into a round, bright scarlet bead. The light lifted, twisting back and forth like a trained cobra, until it touched the palm of the boy’s silverhand.
The boy let out a soft, startled breath and his eyes squeezed tighter closed, like he was trying to shut something out.
“Mmmmm,” Brelden groaned, but his objection was cut short. Light coalesced in one of the empty sockets, forming into a many-faceted scarlet gemstone.
The boy let out a weary sigh as his work was finished and looked for a moment like he would fall. Drex stepped forward quickly and caught him by the arm.
Brelden turned his eyes on Drex. The pale eyes of a blind man, only instead of milky white this boy’s eyes were the faint green color of jade.
“This man ... was a ... sinner,” the boy said.
“Liar!” The young man seated by the bamboo plant shouted. He jumped up from his seat and balled his hands into fists.
Drex gently moved Brelden behind him and put his hand on the pommel of his sword.
He regretted it immediately.
Lifebringer made a rough metallic sound in Drex’s head like a grinding wheel sharpening an axe blade. A hunger that was hot and potent washed over him. Kill the boy, the emotion whispered. He looks small, but he’s dangerous. He has a secret way to kill.
“And a powder smith no doubt!” Gallendus said from Drex’s side. He gave the young boy a glare so icy that he promptly sat back down in his seat.
Drex exhaled sharply. The sound of the Triad Commander’s voice called Drex back to reality and he took his hand off Lifebringer’s pommel.
A powder smith, Drex thought. That’s the reason he’s dead. Making the tantalizing drug bright powder was dangerous, painstaking work. The process of grinding down the lifespark gems broke at least five of the Sintaran Order’s Holy Imperatives and required one to work with criminals. Often the avaricious employers decided it was better to kill the smith and take the profits for themselves.
“Gallendus!” Kartha said. “We do not judge the dead. It is for the Heart of the Earth, not you, to interpret what the color means.”
“Brelden can tell us,” Gallendus said holding up a finger. “Ah, you saw something, didn’t you, boy?”
“I--“
“No!” Kartha said, stopping him. “What you saw is for your eyes alone. We don’t want to heap trouble on this poor family.”
“But he was one,” the woman said, wiping her eyes.
“Mother!” The boy protested.
“I have to tell them, Inis. These are Speakers and a Triad. The eyes of the Heart are on us now.” She turned back to Gallendus and her voice trembled as she continued speaking. “He was a powder smith. I saw him bring the stolen lifespark gems here and make the deconstruction circles. I told him to stop, but he went right on speaking the words from that evil book. I tried to stop him. I told him it would only bring trouble and sorrow, but he never did listen to me.”
The last part seemed to finally break something in her and she buried her face in her hands.
Kartha walked over to the woman and placed one hand on her shoulder.
“Come, child,” she said softly. “We are not here to judge you or your husband. That is for the Heart of the Earth. Why don’t you have your servants move his body to another room so that you can prepare it for his burial?”
“Yes, that would be best,” the woman said as much to herself as the Kartha. “Come, Inis.”
The two rose and walked hand-in-hand to a steep flight of stairs, but before they ascended them, Inis turned.
“He was not a sinner,” he repeated emphatically before continuing up the stairs.
A cluster of servants in coarse black tunics entered the room and lifted the body together. They eyed Drex warily as they carried the body up the stairs and out of the room.
Drex smiled at them. It shouldn’t have been that hard, he thought. He checked the barriers of his mind to make sure he hadn’t accidentally allowed Gallendus passage into his thoughts. It wouldn’t be good for him to know that he’d considered killing the boy even for a moment. But no, he had held his thoughts under tight control ever since coming to Damastin. He felt a mental pressure and opened them slightly, realizing Gallendus was trying to speak to him.
You are here! Gallendus said to Drex through the boisterous mind link and then out loud. “Come here, let me look at you.”
Drex presented himself to his Triad commander, touching two fingers to the golden circle on his chest in a salute. Gallendus’ stormy grey eyes made him feel like he was being inspected for cracks.
He clapped Drex on the shoulders. “You seem well enough!”
Tess embraced him without preamble. She smelt faintly of stargazer lilies. She wasn’t the kind of woman who wore perfumes, but she always smelled that way.
“Something is wrong,” Tess said as they separated. “I can see it in your eyes.”
“Out with it.” Gallendus said. “We’re your Triad, son. No secrets between us, eh?”
Drex decided there was no way around telling them. If he didn’t the two of them were likely to keep pestering him with their worries until he did.
“It’s Alyssa,” he said with a slight tremble in his voice. “She has the blood fever.”
“Old Lyla can take care of her,” Tess said quicky.
“Of course, but Lyla can only do so much with what we have in the Vale. Nam’s helping her, but I’ve never trusted the man much.”
“Then we will head there as soon as we are done harvesting in Damastin and the Sunset Hills,” Kartha said firmly.
“Is that even possible?” Drex asked. “The Harvest--”
“--must go to Eastwell, yes, but that can wait. It’ll only take us a week out of our way and there are plenty of reasons I can give the Worldspeakers for the delay.”
“Aye, but will they believe them?” Gallendus asked.
Kartha laughed. “They don’t have to. I’m doing the will of the Heart of the Earth and I hear Its voice as well as any.”
Drex turn to face her and her hazel eyes found his. There was a motherly warmth in her expression that erased his worry.
“Thank you,” he said.
Gallendus clapped him on the shoulder. “Well then, there you have it. Kartha will make sure it turns out well for you. Now did you find out what it will be?”
“What, what will be?”
“Your child, silly,” Tess said matter-of-factly and rolled her eyes. “Is it a boy or a girl?”
“A boy,” Drex said. “I could feel the shape of him when I touched her belly this time.”
“Of course,” Tess said with a smirk. “The shape of a boy and a girl are very different.”
Drex smiled. “I didn’t mean that. I meant that I felt his lifespark.”
Gallendus slapped Drex so hard on the back that he nearly knocked him over. “He’ll make a fine Triad.”
“If he’s chosen,” Gallendus said, correcting himself when he saw the look that Drex gave him. “I only meant that he might want to be chosen, to follow in his father’s footsteps. My son Bennet did.”
Drex didn’t think that was a comforting thought. He didn’t like the idea of raising his son as a warrior, his only thoughts from the time he was a toddler about how to hurt other men.
“It’s far too early to worry about his call in any case,” Kartha added gently. “As for your wife, I will pray to the Heart of the Earth on her behalf. We all will. There is also an apothecary in the silver district named Molu. He’s blind, but don’t let that put you off. He knows how to do wonders with those herbs of his. Tell him Kartha sent you and he should give you a fair price.”
“Thank you,” Drex said, bowing his head deferentially. “I will.”
“Good. Now back to business.” He turned to Brelden who seemed to be making a close examination of his hands. “Tell us what you saw.”
“Saw?” Drex asked. “Isn’t he blind?”
“Blind?” Brelden spoke sluggishly, as if he were waking from a dream. “No, I see differently than you, but I can see.”
“Yes,” Gallendus said, “but I mean when you drew out that man’s lifespark. You said he was a sinner. What did you see?”
Brelden smiled weakly. “I always see their lives when I pull the lifespark out of them. Kartha says it’s not always that way for the others. She says I have the gift.”
Kartha gave a stiff nod.
“Well?” Gallendus asked impatiently. “Was he a powder smith or not?”
“You don’t need to know that,” Kartha said.
“No, but you do. Besides, I would like to know if I was right.”
“Right?” Brelden asked. “Maybe. He was a powder smith, but there are other things there too. Worse things. A man in grey cloak sewn with a starlight came for him. Then a whispering wind and darkness.”
Brelden plucked the crimson gem from his handplate and dropped it into a velvet purse tied to his waist. It would keep the sinner stone separate and ensure that it was one of the first to rejoin the Worldstream through the Well when they reached Eastwell. There would be no delaying of judgement for the gold man’s soul.
“A cloak sewn with starlight?” Drex said. “What kind of nonsense is that?”
“It’s not nonsense,” Kartha said. “The way he sees things during the harvest isn’t always perfect. It’s like viewing world through thick glass--it often distorts certain parts or exaggerates them out of proportion.”
“But it still doesn’t sound like a leecher,” Tess said smartly. “They always dress in black and wear those awful half-masks.”
“The man with a cloak sewn in starlight feels off,” Drex agreed and surpressed a shudder. For some reason the mention of the man made his heart feel a shade emptier, like the remark had cast a shadow he couldn’t see.
“Aye,” Gallendus said. “That’s the part I can’t put together. The black crossbow bolt looks like it came from a leecher, but they care little for powder smiths other than to sell their stolen lifespark gems to them. What reason would they have to kill him?”
Tess laughed. “You just love a good intrigue.”
“No,” he said seriously. “What I love is justice. This man got what he deserved, but it may lead to larger figures.”
“That will be taken care of by the Judicators,” Kartha said in weary way that reminded Drex of a mother correcting a child. “Your role is to protect the harvest, not uncover plots.”
“And if it leads to leechers?” Gallendus said, raising one of his bushy eyebrows.
“Then it will be your business,” Kartha said with her hands on her hips. “But not until then.”
“Then we should take our leave of you,” Tess said with an apologetic bow. “We have much to do. Old friends to visit, herbs to purchase, and as soon as it is late enough for propriety to allow it, drinking. You’ll come with us, won’t you Drex?”
Tess looked up at him expectantly.
“No,” Drex said. “There’s too much to do. I must visit the apothecary and I promised Zaylon a visit.”
“But we just found out the sex of your child. We must celebrate. Besides, we are going to The Painted Lady and even Gallendus is coming. Don’t tell me you don’t want to drink Damastin’s spiced ale?”
“Aye,” Gallendus said. “You don’t want to miss that.”
“Fine,” Drex said reluctantly. “I will have one drink.”
“And Kartha?” Tess asked.
Kartha pursed her lips. “One drink. After I’ve finished with the Judicators, so it might be very late. And I’ll bring Brelden of course.”
“Of course.”
And just like that Tess’ enthusiasm chased Drex’s worry away. The three of them walked out of the manse shoulder to shoulder where the space allowed, one Triad. It was nearly enough to make Drex forget about Lifebringer’s raw hunger he’d felt moments before. And that cold feeling he’d had when Brelden spoke of the man with the grey cloak sewn with starlight.
Comments