Earth Chapter 7: Fate 1
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“Search the grounds!” barked Korma. His accent betrayed the low birth of a dockhand, but he was a seasoned leader, his bite nothing less than his zeal for keeping the squad of twenty-five men alive.
The familiar, acrid residue of sulfur hung over the remote settlement as they approached. Earth tightened his kerchief, stepping over a dead farmer, barely a few summers older than himself.
Not the first.
His sword hung heavy at his hip as he trudged onward, a weary mix of scavenger and warrior. He grimaced at the charred ground beneath his feet.
The days were clockwork now. Each brought more of the same. Nothing but burnt homes and ruined crops lay in the army's wake as they moved through the farmlands east of the Ahrvan River. The force was much dwindled, as the impact of the Culling stretched ever before them, the supply chain was compelled to leave more and more men behind.
Day after day, every town and farm they passed lay blackened and smoking, not a living soul found. No matter where they went, they were forced to sweep the way for wards. Barely noticeable, sunken in the ground, like a serpent in waiting, multiple patrols were taken out before anyone realized it. Now, they all knew. One misstep, and boom.
“Stay in pairs’n watch for the bloody wards. No more lost limbs like poor Mikeh. Nice’n easy! Clean sweep”n aim to move on before midsun three!”
That was why they stayed near the river as much as possible. The wards were easier to spot near muddy ground. But it was hard going.
Earth focused with rugged attention on the dirt path that led into the heart of the farmyard before him, eyes scanning for any sign of disturbed ground. The only one he'd seen so far was nothing but a tiny metal box, less than half a hand wide and barely a finger thick. Earth could not see such a thing could create so much destruction. But he stood back all the same as the sniffers nurse it out of the ground, then scurry it away Forgotten knows where.
He paused to prod over yet another body, this one an old woman.
“What are we even doing here?”
Macrema liked to grumble and Earth wasn't sure he'd trust him in a fight. But he had more training and outranked Earth, so Earth did his best to ignore the ongoing commentary when he could.
“I don’t know,” Earth said as they approached one of the smaller barns, its walls scorched black and the thatched roof burned away. “There is a reason we’ve been sent out like this. The Shadowsun is hungry for information. We don't even know what we fight. These madgyics... no one’s ever seen anything like it. I can’t imagine how they ever turned it back.”
“It's madness,” Macrema said. He paused by door that hung low on its hinges. “A fool's errand. We should have fled south or across the sea. They could be behind us now as easily as ahead. And how many? How strong?”
He ducked to enter. “I’ll be murdered before searching rotting farmhouses will bring an answer to that!”
A faint whiff of sulfur drifted on the wind.
Click.
Earth didn't wait. He lunged forward, crashing into Macrema and knocking him through the door, the ducking to the side just as a deafening CRACK! exploded from the darkness within. Adrenaline surged through him he drew himself himself up the outer wall, bracing for what was to come.
Everything spun in Earth's head, impossibly fast and barely crawling. He heard Korma's voice barking somewhere across the yard. Others weee sprinting in from the fields. But there was something else. Something wrong. If it was a trap, there was only one way to know.
He dove through the door, sword ready. A red flicker came and went. Earth saw him then, in that instant. Skin drawn and leathery behind his full beard, eyes aged and wizened, his entire face contorted in a primal scowl. The CRACK! followed.
Pain exploded through Earth’s body. His chest raged like fire.
He attacked, swatting away the Madgyi’s stave and plunging his gladius deep into the the flesh of his neck. Together, they fell to the ground in a heap.
The world darkened.
Was that Macrema over him? No. Korma. The smell... almost sweet. So much pressure. Nothing to breathe.
He did not expect to be so calm.
Earth stirred in the darkened tent, the absence of light closed in on him. The scent of incense mingled with the stale air as he tried to shake off his grogginess. A cough revealed his throat to be parched and raw. His limbs were heavy and weak, like after a fever. His hair was damp with sweat and his stomach ached.
He wondered if anyone was nearby, or if there was water. As he sat up, the bandages around his middle pulled taut. Memories flooded back to him. Pain. Shock. The Madgyi. the staff. The explosion that tore a whole in his chest.
But he could not feel the pain now, only an itching beneath the poultice that had been applied to his wounds. He lay back down, waiting for something to happen. Soon the incense would go out.
The flap of the tent moved, and he heard a sound, a flint striking, and he tensed, ready to fight. But the figure that emerged was not an enemy. Colinae was the Shadowsun’s Chief of Physicians. Earth recognized him, though he was surprised to see him. Normally, Colinae only directly tended to high ranking officers.
He lit a lamp, hovering over a selection of bottles, before coming over. That gave Earth a moment to better make out his surroundings. This was no common sicktent. Fine furs and rugs covered the walls and floors, and a massive desk in the corner was covered in scrolls, parchments and what looked like maps.
"Where am I?" Earth asked as he sat up. Colinae's piercing green eyes fixated on him suddenly, as if he hadn’t noticed him before. The air of unease that was palpable.
"Why do you ask?" the physician responded at last. He placed a bundle on the table. With a deft hand, he retrieved a scalpel from within, then turned to Earth. "I must examine your poultices," he gestured towards the bed, "Please recline."
Earth complied, bracing himself. He averted his gaze as Colinae began to cut away the fabric, his eyes drawn to a tapestry adorning the wall. It depicted warfare, black-clad soldiers locked in a violent struggle against faceless men garbed in red robes, wielding long staves.
"This is not a sicktent," Earth said. "That is why I ask.”
"No," Colinae said, his voice strained. "No, it is not a - ”
The physician's breath caught in his mouth, the creases on his furrowed brow deepening with concern.
“Yes?” Earth asked, noticing
"What do you remember?" The physician's gaze met his own.
“Very little," Earth said. “It all happened so fast. Memories in haze. A face. An odor.”
Colinae nodded slowly as he listened, but the sound of voices carried in on a soft breeze from outside.
"It tells us nothing," a husky, powerful voice declared. "It could have been an accident. But it smells of a plan to me. A trap."
"Whether it was a trap is irrelevant," said a second voice. Earth immediately recognized the King. "This is our first real opportunity. We must seize it. You trained me well enough to see that we will never be stronger than we are right now."
“We shall know more when the boy wakes,” said a third voice, smooth like a fleeting breeze.
"Your Grace, he is conscious," Colinae announced. A moment later, all three figures stood in the tent beside them. "However,” Colinae added, “I am uncertain of his condition. His memory is incomplete. Further, something peculiar, the man bears no wounds.”
“What manner of sorcery is this?” Admiral Gaoltea growled, his one good eye fixed on Earth.
“I assure you, my Lord Admiral, there is no sorcery here,” Colinae replied, his voice even and steady. “His wounds are simply gone, as if they never were. I cannot explain it.”
"What in the name of the First Realms does that mean?" The smooth voice caught Earth's attention. Acis, the King's Chief of Assassins, had a way of blending into everything, almost as if he was made of water. He looked it too. His hair, a long, silver tail, was held tightly back. His midnight blue eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light.
Beside him Admiral Gaoltea looked even more weathered, red-white scar running down his cheek straight through his streaked, hoary beard. Earth stared awestruck at them both until he remembered that it was the King who stood beside them. Up close he looked even younger, with fire-streaked black hair and youthful skin. But his bright green eyes held a weariness that spoke of more than one hardship.
Colinae's voice brought Earth back. "He has no wounds.”
Acis’ deft hands shot forward, examining the cut bandages and Earth’s bloodstained but otherwise healthy gut with a swift touch.
"Impossible," the assassin whispered.
Colinae stepped between his patient and the assassin.
“Evidently not.”
The King approached, leaning in over the physician's shoulder. "But the report states his intestines were penetrated by the madgyics, that the bleeding could not be stemmed. And that was not but twenty hours ago." He turned to Earth. "You are certain this is the same man?"
"I know my patients," Colinae replied. "But until I've had more than a few grains pass through the glass and examine him, I can offer no more answers than you."
"And what of his own words?" The gruff voice of Gaoltea rumbled from the map table, where he stood scrutinizing a piece of parchment.
"I..." Earth hesitated. "I recall the farmstead, and the Madgyi. I killed him, but he cast a spell. Beyond that, I don’t know. I remember pain, but not much else.”
The Shadowsun’s gaze bore down on him. "Your platoon brought you back to the camp wrapped in bloody rags, all but lifeless. But your captain insisted that you still breathed. You were taken to the sicktent with all haste, as any soldier deserves to be. But…” He moved to a set of shelves behind the table, and retrieved the Madgyi's staff, “when your captain presented us with this, everything changed."
Colinae then spoke. "After I tended your wound, I was certain you would not survive. But I hoped you might awaken before the end. The Shadowsun intended to interrogate you if fortune allowed, so you were brought here. Except for this past hour, I have not left your side, and his highness has remained close by as well. It was evident that you not only breathed, but slumbered peacefully. Nonetheless, I could not have imagined..."
“He is one of them,” Acis spoke, his voice low. “He is a worm, faking his own death by fey madgyics to infiltrate us. And we have done him the greatest favor, bringing him here, to our heart of hearts.”
Gaoltea laughed, his booming voice filling the tent. “A fine trick, too! The boy has been with us since Elusa. Quite the ruse.”
The King’s expression firmed. “I am aware of the dangers, Acis. But I will not sacrifice a potential asset without cause. Earth’s officers say he has proved his mettle time over. If he is indeed what you fear, we shall deal with him accordingly.”
The assassin’s silver eyes narrowed. “Trustworthiness is the finest disguise for a liar,” he said as he bowed and left the tent. “I would know.”
Gaoltea followed suit.
“There is a storm brewing between those two,” Colinae said.
“I know it well,” the King replied, but he turned back to Earth. “You have been through much, little brother. But the trial is only begun. Colinae will examine to your wounds, and I will examine your mind. It goes without saying you must be true. The only trait I require of my trust is integrity.”
As the silence stretched between them, the King's gaze bore into Earth's. After a moment, he spoke again. "You are not the only one with secrets, Earth. Mine is this: I need your help. Will you give it?"
“Yes, your grace.” Earth took a deep breath. “I will do what I can.”
“Good.” the Shadowsun stepped close to Earth. “Then let us begin, Earth. That is a good name, little brother. Earth, tell me everything that you remember about this.” He raised the Madgyi’s stave, inspecting it with a keen eye.
“It was dark, ” he began. “But I knew something was inside.”Earth recounted the events in the cottage, his memory vivid. The acrid residue of sulfur. The CRACK! The red flash. As he spoke, the King ran his hands over the strange weapon, tracing its details.
Suddenly, a small compartment opened with a metallic CLINK!, spilling three spheres onto the ground. All three men gasped for breath and froze, expecting a trap, or an explosion. But it never came. The physician stooped to pick up one of the spheres.
"I do not know this alloy," he said. "But if I am not much mistaken, then it was a sphere such as this which caused your injury, Earth. The size is certainly refractive.”
The King picked up a sphere for himself, studying it closely under a near lamp. He then turned his attention back to Earth. “And how long, do you think, was the time between these loud cracks you spoke of, the ones accompanying the red light?"
Earth furrowed his brow. "It’s hard to say, your grace. Things moved so fast, but time itself was standing still. Certainly, not more than a brief moment."
The King pressed him, "How many cracks did you hear again?”
"Two. No, three," Earth replied. "One when I pushed Macrema from the door, one when I dove inside, and the third when I struck the Madgyi."
“There will be signs!” exclaimed the King. He tossed the sphere and caught it with a certain swipe, hand gripped in a fist of determination as he rose up. “Another platoon must be sent to the farmstead at once. If this is true…” He grinned at Colinae and winked at Earth. “I am not mistaken, am I?”
“Your grace, about what?” Colinae’s face pinched as he focused.
“About holes left by the madgyics,” Earth said. “I think you are right, your grace.”
“Your grace,” Colinae stepped between them as he interjected. “About tonight, I do not like the plan.”
“Nor do I,” agreed the King. “That is why we meet to discuss it. You will be in attendance.”
“It is not the place of a mere physician,” Colinae protested. “My peculiar accounting of knowledge cannot accept some of your other allowances.”
“Your place is where I tell you it is,” the King raised his voice, but only an edge. “A keen mind is no more monopolized by generals, shadows and prophets than by doctors. You will be there to tell us what you find of Earth’s recovery, as well as share your advice regarding the plan.”
The King smiled, but Colinae still looked pouty. “My friend, do what you can. I will see to the search for the madgyics’ holes.” He he opened the tent flap to peer outside and the afternoon daylight flooded in. “It remains in the hands of the Forgotten. Whether he be hidden to hear our prayer or not there at all, there is a time to hasten.”
The flap fall shut behind him.
“He will not listen to me,” Colinae said, looking down at Earth with pain etched on his face. He brought forth a damp cloth and began cleaning the caked blood away from Earth’s chest.
“You’ve been honored,” Earth reminded him. “Invited to the King’s own council.”
“Yes,” the physician acknowledged. “And he will ask you too.” He finished with the damp cloth he held and walked away to wring it out in a basin.“But what are you? A lucky boy stumbling upon fate? Not likely. What can you possibly know or do? Our King has the greatest general of our age, the finest assassin to ever walk the earth, three scholars of ancient lore on his council.”
The doctor ducked his head as he complained, coming back with the newly dampened cloth. “He also has a high priest of the Forgotten, a hermit with the strictest commitments a treasurer-savant who can barely speak but never makes a mistake, and his Mastermith at Arms, as if that weren’t enough. If there is anything more to be thought of, these marvels have all already thought it to death.” His fingers brushed against the smooth, unblemished skin where the hole in his abdomen had been. “What can a boy from the sticks or an exhausted physician do?”
The physician's words stung as much as any wound.
The story of Earth continues…
