The Aperture

Chapter 5

The Spirit Mage

“Wake up,” commanded a man’s voice from out of the darkness, rousing Connie from the warm cocoon of a deep sleep.

“I’m awake,” she tried to say, but her mouth would not move. She opened her eyes to find herself standing over a vaguely familiar-looking woman wrapped in a blanket lying on the ground next to a smoldering fire. A slightly overweight, middle-aged man was kneeling over the woman. The man shook the woman again.

“Wake up. We must go now.”

Connie woke up staring into Jalban’s face.

“By the gods, Alyndia,” Jalban said. “You sleep like the dead. It is a struggle to rouse you.”

She sat up quickly. For a moment, she did not know where she was, then she recalled that they had camped for the night in a clearing in the forest. She then noticed that the ground was blanketed in a dull green haze. It was about four inches thick and had no scent. Whatever it was, she had been breathing it while she was lying on the ground. She looked up at Jalban, still feeling disoriented and at a loss for words.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I think I was floating outside my body.”

“When?”

“Just now—just before I woke up.”

“Probably, you were dreaming.”

Before Connie could say more, Jalban handed her a metal cup of orange liquid.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Betanna root extract and toad’s foot. Drink it for sustenance. We will have a meal when we reach town.”

Connie awkwardly took the cup from Jalban. She nearly spilled its contents on her lap. At that moment, she realized her body felt numb, as if it were not hers, but one she controlled through a kind of clumsy remote control. She was indeed incredibly thirsty, and she drank the contents of the cup without question. The concoction tasted vaguely like pineapple juice with a touch of salt added.

While she imbibed the liquid, she took in her surroundings. In the hazy morning light, all was coming back to her. She saw Rahl tying down the pack on the hanyak. Sind toyed with his baby brother on a nearby log. The sky was hazy with green-white clouds. With the sensation of feeling returning to her body, she realized she ached from laying on the hard ground all night, and she had to pee very badly.

Ten minutes later, they were back on the road again. Connie gazed at the green cloud that covered the ground as they rode. On closer observation, it appeared more as a gas than an actual mist or cloud. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that looks like concentrated chlorine gas, but I know it can’t be because we’re still alive, she thought. Besides, it smells like nothing.

The clouds parted and the sunlight broke through; the green haze along the ground quickly dissipated as the ground warmed. Rahl and Jalban rode while speaking amicably about the prices of grain, livestock, and other prosaic subjects. Next rode Sind and his brother. Connie rode behind them on her hanyak, feeling dirty and wishing for a hot bath.

The forest seemed rich with game. Within a ten- to fifteen-minute span, she counted no fewer than three odd-looking rabbits, five squirrels, and some other strange creatures she could not readily identify. They passed a caravan of traders traveling in the direction they came. They were the ones Rahl called the bardin. A bearded member of the second caravan, dressed in a brightly colored, rainbow-colored robe, stopped and spoke with Rahl and Jalban for a span. Connie did not understand the language they spoke, but by the end of their brief conversation, both Rahl and Jalban seemed a bit disturbed by something said to them.

Connie didn’t bother to ask them what was said, for after the previous day’s travails, she did not feel she had established a good rapport with either man. Moreover, Rahl the Swordbearer hadn’t said a word to her all morning. She wondered if he was still angry with her from the previous evening. Sind rode beside Connie and kept her company with tales from his lifestyle as a street urchin back in Roggentine. When Kebal started to cry, she took over nursing him with the pineapple-flavored liquid dispensed from a jury-rigged, tanned pig bladder she fixed up to function like a teat. She continued listening to Sind. She thought that if all he told her was true, he was definitely a precocious lad.

Soon, the forest thinned and gave way to small fields of crops punctuated by rude cottages, fenced yards of livestock, and an occasional crude, thatched-roof barn. Though most of the crops and variety of livestock looked unfamiliar to her, it seemed apparent from the road that some of the farms were doing better than others.

About that time, Connie took notice of a band of high, snow-capped mountains that surrounded them in the distance on almost three sides. They were in a vast valley. From what Sind had said, the ocean was to their backs, though he did know exactly how far, since he’d never been there himself.

They arrived at a crossroad next to a small river spanned by a moderately old-looking stone-and-timber bridge. Rahl and Jalban made a left at the crossroads without reading the weathered sign planted there. Evidently, they knew where they were going. Connie rode up to the sign. They were headed to the town of Zeranon. Castle Maray was over the river and straight ahead. The township of Maray and Thissane Springs was to the right.

They left the road for the bank of the river and allowed the hanyaks to drink. The town to which they were headed was downstream of the river. Sind washed his brother a good fifteen paces from where they took their water. Connie scooped up some of the water into a metal cup and swirled it around in the light. It looked clear and drinkable. She tentatively took a sip. It tasted like water, and it was cool and refreshing. What did you expect? Hydrochloric acid? she thought, smiling.

While sipping from the cup of water, she saw something large and white floating slowly near the center of the river. From a distance, her trained eyes told her it was a dead body, or perhaps a large pig. No one else but her seemed to take notice of it. Not wishing to start any more trouble with Rahl and Jalban in case it was not what it seemed, she quietly spilled the water out of her cup and walked back up the bank to the road to wait for the others.

Soon, they were on the road again. They passed over some hilly areas. Then, at the apex of a particularly large hill, the town of Zeranon came into view. The town was not particularly large, perhaps fifteen to twenty buildings in all. A river divided the town at its approximate center, the halves joined by a squat, sturdy-looking stone bridge. Clustered around the town were tilled fields of crops. The farm houses near the town were better constructed than those in the outlying areas. Apparently, this was prime farmland.

Just before they reached town, Rahl broke way from Jalban and over to Connie.

“I am going to visit my brother Yalden,” Rahl said. “Jalban will go with me. We will meet you at Wendsar’s Inn by dusk.”

“Won’t your brother even let you stay with him?”

“Perhaps that would not be best,” he replied with strange reluctance.

“Whatever you say,” she said with indifference.

Rahl seemed ready to ride off when he lingered beside her instead. Sensing he wanted to speak to her, Connie stopped her hanyak and waited. Seeing her stopped, Sind also waited. Connie urged him to continue onward with Jalban, which he did.

“Do you have something to say?” Connie asked Rahl.

“I would like your forgiveness about last night. I was wrong in the way I treated you,” he said.

She studied his expression. He looked genuinely contrite. Wow! She thought in amazement. A man who can admit he was wrong and even apologize for it. MacGregor could learn a few things from Rahl. She decided to play it up to the hilt with Rahl the Swordbearer.

“I have to admit, Rahl, I was taken aback by a heroic Swordbearer such as you taking advantage of an innocent, defenseless sorceress like me,” Connie said in the most coquettish voice she could conjure. “You frightened me awfully.”

“Yes, I realize how uncouth it was of me to take hold of you as I did. Will you forgive me, lady Alyndia?”

“Well, I suppose I could, Rahl. That is, if you don’t let it happen again.”

“Thank you, lady,” he said, visibly relieved that she forgave him. “I was not acting within my code last night. A Swordbearer must have temperance and let insults fall away like raindrops from a Pon-Bull cloak.”

“Unusual allegory, Rahl, but I’ll buy that.”

“Yes, you have my word. I will never again lay an angry hand upon you,” he said.

Connie nodded slowly, noticing how gravely he made his promise. Rahl certainly seemed to take his Swordbearer business seriously. She smiled at him in admiration as he rode back to Jalban.

A few minutes later, Rahl and Jalban turned off the main road. Connie and Sind entered the town by themselves. To her, the village looked like an authentic medieval village, even more so than even Roggentine. It could easily have been used for the set of Monty Python’s “In Search of the Holy Grail” or any other movie set in medieval times. There was a livery stable, an apothecary, a bootmaker, a cartwright, and other icons of medieval life. People went about their business, dressed in animal skins and rude cloth, toiling away in low-tech fashion as would have been done in the dark ages. Her eyes searched in vain; there was not a telephone pole, television aerial, or power line in sight. Cerinya. It was no small wonder why she had never heard of this country before. They are so low-tech that they lack even the rudiments available to those in the backwater villages of Cambodia.

They rode through a marketplace, a miniature of the one they passed through in Roggentine. They crossed over another bridge to the other side of town. At the center of the bridge, it occurred to Connie to look for the body in the water she had seen earlier, since this town was downstream from where she saw it, but then she thought, What’s the point?

Just on the other side of the bridge was a larger-than-average, two-story building with a wooden sign hung just above the door: Wendsar’s Inn.

“Here we are, I guess,” Connie said to Sind.

The two of them dismounted and tied the hanyaks to a stout wood rail set into the ground exactly for that purpose. There was another type of creature tied there. It looked similar to a hanyak, only it was shorter and stouter, with far thicker legs than a hanyak. It appeared to be a pack animal—what a mule was to a horse. She searched for a word to describe the creature—it was called a barak.

Judging from the motley group of hanyaks and baraks tied to the rails, the inn was moderately busy for the morning. She entered the inn. Inside, she found rustic settings. A dozen or so patrons sat at simple oak tables dispersed on a battered, wood plank floor. A middle-aged woman with pale green hair tied in a knot at the crown of her head watched them from behind a bar while she polished one from a group of pewter mugs set on the bar in front of her. Behind the woman, set into heavy racks, was a row of a dozen or so barrels with spigots attached. From behind a green curtain behind the left side of the bar came frying noises and the clatter of pots. Though it was daylight outside, the place was somberly lit with oil lamps, and a small fire burned at a hearth. The patrons seemed relaxed and passive while eating hotcakes, drinking, and speaking in low tones. On a small raised stage, beneath a set of stairs, a young man played a sad, pensive tune on a recorder while a woman, who appeared at least five years older than he, accompanied him with a stringed instrument that looked and sounded much like a mandolin. Connie decided the place had a settled, homey feel to it. She and Sind took a seat at one of the tables.

A few minutes later, the server walked up to their table with a rag draped over her forearm. Without the bar in front of her to hide her figure, the woman appeared very matronly.

“Are you two hungry this morning?”

Sind looked over at Connie, looking unsure whether he should speak. She suspected that he had most likely never been inside an inn before, much less been a paying customer.

“Yes, those hotcakes look good,” Connie answered. “We would like hotcakes.” Then she remembered the baby in his arms. “Do you have fresh milk?”

“Indeed, we do,” the woman replied. “Fresh from the mother cow’s teat.”

“I would like milk for the three of us. Wait—none for me. Milk does not agree with me. I’ll take water instead.”

Sind smiled at Connie as the woman disappeared behind the green curtain. “Thank you, lady. I always knew you had a kind spirit.”

“Well, don’t start thinking I’m too kind. We need to get you back to Roggentine, where you belong. It looks like we’ll be going on a long trip, and I can’t—”

Before she could finish her sentence, someone approached Connie. He was a thin, lanky man in his mid-twenties with a reddish scruffy beard and dressed in worn, light brown leather. He stood with a slight stoop. Something about his appearance reminded Connie of Shaggy on the TV cartoon “Scooby-Doo.” The man approached their table from the area of the stage. Connie scanned his body for weapons. Though he brandished none, he carried a dagger in his belt. Connie rested her hand on the hilt of the dagger she had carried on her person since Rahl jumped her last night. She decided she would never allow herself to be defenseless again.

The man stopped at her table and stood there awkwardly without saying anything, as if he had forced himself to approach her without first figuring out why.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Connie asked before the man could figure out what he was going to say.

“Are you—are you Alyndia the elemental sorceress?” he asked.

“Well, that’s what they call me,” she replied. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Theodan Parsas of Esamane.”

“What can I do for you, Theodan Parsas of Esamane? My friend and I are about to have our breakfast.”

“Don’t you know?” the man asked, running his hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m supposed to accompany you to the castle.”

“No one told me that. Are you sure you aren’t mistaken?”

“Are you Alyndia, the niece of Jalban Soth, herbalist of Roggentine?”

“If you’re supposed to come with us, why didn’t Jalban mention you before?”

The young man bit his lip nervously. “You see, this matter came up rather suddenly.” The man looked to the inn to make sure no one was watching them. “Would you mind if I sat at your table.”

Connie gave Theodan a once over again. Although he carried a dagger, he seemed harmless enough. Somehow, she doubted he knew how to use it well enough to cut himself a slice of bread with it. Still, there was something disarmingly boyish about him that charmed her. She pulled out a chair for him.

“I suppose you can sit with us.”

“Thank you, lady,” he said as he eagerly took the chair.

“As you were saying?”

“Yes, a matter came up where I was impressed to go along with you.”

Theodan did not seem to want to continue telling her.

“Go on. Spit it out. Tell me what happened.”

Theodan looked to the scarred floor of the inn. “I was caught murdering chickens.”

“You were what? Murdering chickens? How do you murder a chicken?”

He pulled out his dagger and held it up. Immediately, Connie tightened her grip on the dagger she clutched below the table. Whether he seemed harmless or not, she wasn’t taking any chances with this stranger, at least not with defenseless Kiban at the table.

“I cut off their heads,” he said, with a small quaver in his voice. “I cut off their heads with a dagger such as this.”

Connie let out a small laugh. She thought this was genuinely funny. “How do you go to jail for cutting off the heads of chickens?”

“They weren’t my chickens.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“The constables caught me, and they put me in prison. They were going to sever my hand as a common thief, but my father intervened. Perhaps you know him. He is Sarlan Teolor. He occupies a chair in the Ruling Council in Esamane.”

Connie shook her head. “Nope. Never heard of him.”

“My father bartered my left hand for thirty days of service at the Castle Maray and aid in repairing the breach in the Calphous Wall. I was sent to meet you here under the Order of the Council. I was to see Jalban. Is he here?”

“No, he will be here later. He is visiting our traveling companion’s brother.”

“So, how do you know Jalban?”

“His father and my father are friends. My father has consulted Jalban’s herbalist family for years. My father also knew your mother, Alitrea. That is how I came to learn of you. Though you are dirty and you smell bad, you are every bit as beautiful as you have been described to me.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Why, yes, Alyndia. That is a compliment.”

“Well, don’t get any ideas, Theodan. I’m not your type.”

The server brought two plates stacked with hot cakes over to the table along with a set of three-pronged forks. Connie gave the woman a few green copper pieces from her pouch. Then immediately, she dove into the hotcakes, as did Sind. Theo watched them eat with a detached expression.

“You two look like you were hungry.”

“Ravenous is more like it, Theodan,” Connie said with her mouth full, savoring the nutty flavor of the cakes.

“By the way, you can call me Theo.”

“And you can call me Connie.”

He smiled slightly. “That is such an odd name, particularly for a sorceress.”

“I’ve never heard anyone named Theodan, either.”

The recorderist and mandolinist began another tune. The one was slightly more upbeat than the previous two were.

Connie wolfed down three more of the cakes before speaking again. “I suppose you like chicken,” she said to Theo.

“No, not at all. In fact, I rarely eat flesh of any kind.”

“Oh, you’re a vegetarian. Then why were you cutting the heads off those chickens?”

“I was searching for humors.”

Connie nearly choked on the hotcakes on hearing that. She quickly washed them down with the water then cleared her throat. “What do you mean you were looking for humors?”

“Didn’t you know? I practice the art of spirit magic.”

“Spirit magic?”

“Yes. Allow me to show you.”

Theo got up from the table and brought back his pack from where it sat by the stage. Once at their table again, he opened the pack and withdrew a handful of something and dropped them on the table. To Connie, they looked like the mummified remains of various internal organs that look like they came from small animals. Most of them were bound and tied together with a fibrous, yellow string.

“What is this?” she asked.

“These are the humors I have extracted from creatures.”

“But these are—body parts.” Her appetite suddenly vanished. “Get these away from me!” she said, pushing her plate away.

Sind seemed unfazed by the mummified remains. He casually slid her plate over to his side of the table.

“I thought you wanted to see them,” Theo said.

“Yes, but I didn’t think—” she began. “Just put them away. I don’t want to see them anymore.”

Theo quickly stuffed the animal parts back into his pack. A hurt expression appeared on his gaunt, unshaven face.

Connie let out a loud, vexed sigh. “How could you do that while we were eating?”

“I’m sorry that my vocation causes you disgust,” he said in an abject tone of voice.

“You call that a vocation? I don’t even think you’d make a good taxidermist.”

“I thought you would understand, as you yourself are a mage.”

“Maybe so, but at least I don’t go around cutting up small animals.”

“I do not cut up small animals for pleasure, as you suggest. I have a purpose for doing so. The nodes you use and humors I use are the same; only the spells are different. You understand?”

Connie did not reply. She watched Sind start on his plate of hotcakes. It amazed her how many hotcakes a boy his size could ingest in one sitting.

Theo continued, “I use these to perform my magic just as you use nodes from nature.”

“But you are killing living things in order to perform magic tricks. You don’t have a problem with that?”

“I don’t consider this killing; I consider it liberation. And I am always merciful when I liberate a spirit.” Theo explained to Connie about the four types of humors, Choleric, Vitriolic, Phlegmatic, and Melancholic, how each type of humor could power its own type of spell, how people also contain humors, and how these humors influence their personalities.

“I suppose you could also extract the humors of living people.”

“Indeed, I could, but I would not. That would be murder—and I am not a murderer. The same is true of higher creatures. But humors of human origin and those of the higher animals are always the strongest and most sought after by spirit magicians such as I.” Theo smiled. “Sometimes, we may bribe an executioner to allow us close to the body shortly after the deed is done.”

“Sorry, Theo. I just don’t buy into it.”

“Well, it’s better than tromping through leagues of woods and descending into the bowels of the earth in search of my source of spell power. Unlike your nodes, humors are everywhere. Most people have at least one strong enough to extract.” Theo narrowed his eyes at Connie while he scrutinized her. “Allow me to guess. I believe you may carry a Choleric humor, or maybe Vitriolic. I will be able to tell you after a short time of being with you. And the boy here, and the infant—”

Sind stopped eating and looked up at Connie.

“You leave them out of this conversation, Theo,” Connie said. “If you so much as lay a hand on them, I’ll be extracting your humors.”

Theo swallowed hard. “I did not mean to say that I was going to—”

“Just heed my words, and we will get along just fine. Now I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

Connie purchased two rooms for the evening at the inn. One for Sind, and one for her. The rooms were spartan compared to what she was used to. But though it was not exactly the Radisson Hotel, the rooms were comfortable for the standards of the area. As a bonus, each contained a small metal stove, although coal for the stove was a copper extra per night. Connie treated herself to a five-copper hot bath. At that time, she took stock of her body, which had changed in many ways. When she looked into the steel mirror to fix her hair, she thought she kept seeing someone else’s reflection there, the woman whose reflection she saw in the mirror back in Roggentine. She decided she did not like the accoutrement of metal plates and beads in her hair, so she removed them all one by one and combed her hair straight. Incredibly, her hair was now a full six inches longer at the shoulder than she had before. It occurred to her that at least a few months had gone by since she had been abducted for her hair to have grown that long. Her mind drew a complete blank when she tried to recall the events of this period. She thought perhaps she had been under the influence of some sort of memory-altering drug. But the gap in her memory was mostly the least of her concern. So many things about this land did not make sense—the customs, the people, the lack of technology, the nutty obsession with magic. The mystery extended from the strange crops that grew from the soil to the hazy green sky above.

Feeling refreshed from her bath, Connie spent the afternoon walking the town with Sind and Theo. They visited most of the shops, and at each shop, she wasted no effort in surreptitiously scanning the sites for any sign of a two-way radio or telephone. At the tailor shop, she purchased a set of clothes for Sind to replace the rags he wore. She got a good deal on the clothes since they were originally intended for the tailor’s son, who, to his dismay, had disliked the formal nature of the clothes so much he never wore them. The clothes fit Sind almost perfectly without altering of any kind, and while Sind wore the clothes, he was a handsome young man in Connie’s eyes.

Later in the day, word was being spread around town about an unidentified dead man that was fished out of the Calumet River. He was discovered that afternoon by some women who were washing their clothes at the river bank by the bridge. Connie wondered if this were the body she thought she had seen early that morning. The man was described as disemboweled. Rumor had it that it did not look like the work of bandits; people in those parts would not commit such a heinous crime. It looks like the work of Chaos, she heard some people mutter. A messenger was sent to Lord Maray at the castle, guardian of the area, to notify him of the findings. When the sun dipped low on the horizon, Connie, Theo, and Sind returned to Wendsar’s Inn.

Rahl sat at one end of the long table by himself, looking despondent. A half-empty mug of ale sat on the table in front of him. Thinking he might want some company, Connie sat down at his table. Sind joined them with his brother cradled in his arms. Theo stayed on his feet.

“Where is Jalban?” Connie asked.

“In a bath,” Rahl replied without elaboration.

Theo stood up. “I’ll fetch him.” He headed up the stairs.

“Did you enjoy visiting your brother?” Connie asked Rahl.

He nodded once then took a long drought from his ale. The way his arm wavered as he lifted the mug told Connie that this was not his first ale—nor likely his second.

“Yes, I enjoyed visiting with him,” he continued. “I always enjoy visiting with my brother. And Jenada too. Especially Jenada.”

“Jenada?”

“Yes, my brother’s wife. She’s the most precious woman to him in the world. Hey, Alyndia, or Connie, or whatever you prefer to be called, I have a sweet offer for your little friend Sind here.” Rahl addressed Sind, “I’ve arranged for Jenada to take your little friend’s brother for a while when we travel to the Maray. I was thinking that without the younger one, they might be able to use you at the castle.”

“I will not leave my brother in the arms of a stranger!” Sind said.

“She’s not a stranger. She’s Jenada. Your brother will like her. And she’ll like him.”

“I will not leave my brother in the arms of a stranger,” he repeated. “My brother will stay with Alyndia.”

“Not so fast, Sind,” Connie broke in. “I never ever told you I’d take care of you or your brother.”

“But you kept me here with you.”

“It’s an oversight, really. I just can’t leave you out on the street after you followed us so far. But you must understand, I’m not the mothering type.”

“I will not leave my brother—” Sind began again.

“Suit yourself,” Connie said. “We’ll just send you and your brother back to Roggentine. But I think Rahl has been very generous in offering his brother’s home to your brother and finding you employment at the castle.”

Sind’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “But what will happen to my brother?”

Connie looked over at Rahl. He answered for her.

“The castle is less than a day from here by your young feet. Your brother will never be far from you.”

“But how will they tend to him?”

“My brother and his wife are good in spirit. Your brother will be in good care with them. I will see to it.”

“Will you promise?”

“You have my word on it as a Swordbearer.”

Sind looked over at Connie, tears running down his face and dripping onto the blanket that wrapped his brother. His eyes begged her for assurance.

“I think you can rely on Rahl’s word as a Swordbearer, Sind,” she said, giving Rahl a subtle nod of affirmation.

An expression of relief crossed Sind’s face. He gazed down at his little brother in his arms. “We have a place for you now, Kibal,” he said, smiling broadly at the infant. “You will be safe, and the good people will take care of everything for you.”

Connie sent Sind upstairs for a bath, then she ordered an ale at the bar and rejoined Rahl at the table.

“Did you hear they found a mutilated body in the river today?” Connie asked Rahl.

He sighed. “Yes. I heard the news.”

“What does it mean? Bandits?”

“Not likely. Bandits might run you through if you put up a fight, perhaps cut your throat as an act of mercy, but not disembowel. It’s just not part of their code. Remember what I told you of Chaos last night?”

“That’s what the townspeople are saying. They are worried.”

“Yes, and that is not all that has been worrying them. It seems that this is not the first mutilated corpse that has turned up since the breach in the wall was discovered. Also, livestock has been mysteriously disappearing. Those animals that are found are also mutilated. The bardin informed Jalban and me that the people and their spirit mage detect the Sword of Doom hanging over the village. You see, there has been no word from Castle Maray in two days. People believe there might be trouble there.” Rahl finished his cup of ale and set the cup down on the table. “They said they saw a giant plume of smoke trailing up into the sky from the direction of the castle yesterday morning. The townsfolk believe the resident guardian, Lord Maray, had waited too long to repair the breach in the wall, and now he, the castle, and its inhabitants have become victims of chaos.”

Connie shook her head. “I’m certain there is a rational explanation for all of this, something besides the so-called ‘chaos’ that you all keep blathering about.”

“I hope your skepticism serves you right, Alyndia. But, no matter which way the copper piece has fallen, all of us shall know the truth before the next sunrise.”