Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) (29 page)

You’re a stripling, despised and feared,
that familiar voice whispered in the back of her mind.
Sooner or later he will fear you too.

She got up quickly as if she had been burned. Her sudden movement jolted Michael awake.

“What...what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said sharply, angry with the voice inside her head, angry at life, just angry. She softened her voice, burying the anger deep inside. “Nothing’s wrong, I’m just going to um...go,” she said, pointing toward three wide fir trees standing so close their branches intertwined. “Over there, I’m going to go...” Oh, stupid men! How could they turn a woman’s brain to mush so easily?

“All right,” he replied slightly confused.

“Why don’t you break camp? I’ll be back soon.” She wanted to run, wanted to cry, wanted to get away before he saw her break down.

“Yeah, sure,” he said.

She made it behind the trees before falling to the ground, tears streaming down her face, body racked with sobs. Most of her life she had been shunned, unable to experience the simplest pleasure of human contact. Striplings could only harm magichae, but most non-magical people behaved as if their very soul could be stripped.

After a time, her iron will rose up again. She could not allow herself to have feelings for him. He was the Keeper, she was a stripling; it was simply not possible. She wanted to scream, she wanted to rail against the Creator, to ask Him how He could be so cruel. Pointless questions. He never answered her before. Why would He now? She took her feelings for Michael; her longing to be loved, her desire to have someone to love and packed them away. She forced them down to the deepest reaches of her mind, past her anguish over the magichae she had destroyed, beyond the years of loneliness she felt, further down in her mind than any hurt she had ever buried before. There she laid her love for Michael down like a precious newborn being tucked in bed.

In the blackness of her mind, a small orb of light caught her attention. She reached out to grab it, but the orb slipped away and disappeared. She opened her eyes, looking around. What had she seen? Was it in her mind or nothing more than the morning sun shining through her eyelids? Did it matter? Her feelings for Michael were buried deep within like treasure buried with no map. She walked back to camp, rebuilding her walls with each step.

“Ready to go?” he asked, throwing a last dose of dirt over the fire pit.

“Yeah,” she replied coldly, grabbing her pack and heading through the trees.

Michael stood there with a confused look on his face.

A few hours of sunlight remained when a town came into sight, larger than Lyndham and nestled against the sloping foothills of the Chelean Mountains. From their vantage point above the town, they could see uniform streets and an actual town square in the center.

“What do you think?” he asked. “We could use supplies, maybe buy horses. Do we chance it?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, not looking at him. She could not allow herself to look into his eyes.

“No one gave chase from Lyndham,” he reasoned. “Perhaps it’s safe. We’re more aware now.”

“As long as you don’t use your powers we should be fine,” she said.

“No powers. Got it.”

She turned and looked at him, pushing down a thought about how much she liked his eyes. “Do you? Not a wit. Most striplings can’t sense dormant magic, but magichae tend to wield tiny amounts without realizing it. Maybe you become so used to your magic you don’t realize you’re using it; like a nervous habit. I don’t know. What I do know is I caught many of my victims unaware, walking idly down a street. Now bury your powers deep down so I can’t sense them.”

***

Marla’s hands were on the last bag of flour when she sensed it. Jolted from the monotony of her labor, her head whipped up, mind alert. It took a moment to find the source. A young man and woman passed her and entered Celise’s store. She heaved the last bag of grain into the wagon and walked after them.

“Forget something?” the shopkeeper asked Marla.

Marla smiled. “I’m old, Celise, I always forget something.”

The shopkeeper smiled and went back to checking her inventory.

“What do you seek?” Marla asked, stepping beside the young man inspecting a blanket roll. The girl glared at her. Marla smiled warmly.

“Supplies, maybe a warm bed. We are just passing through,” the young man said.

“I can help on both counts,” Marla replied.

“Thank you, but the inn across the square looks nice,” the girl said.

A jumpy and suspicious pair. Good for them. They might actually get out of Finery’s Way alive. With some help.

“A warm bed is easy to find at any price,” Marla replied, holding up a wool blanket for inspection, “but safety; now that can be worth a great deal more.”

“Who are you?” the young man demanded.

“Who are you?” she replied. She folded the blanket and placed it back on the pile. “This is not the place one such as you should be.”

The young girl glared at him. She was a feisty one, indeed.

“I can offer you everything you need, including safe passage out of Valan.” She pushed a silver coin into his palm and closed his hand around it. That should at least tell him she wasn’t a stripling. “In case you need direction,” she said, giving him a knowing look before leaving the store.

***

Michael watched the old woman get in her wagon and roll away then looked at the coin she had pressed into his hand. It was a silver coin that covered half his palm with the image of a perched eagle. To his amazement, the head on the coin moved, pointing to where she was at. He turned his back to the door, the eagle adjusting to face the woman’s position.

“What is that?” Falon asked.

“Direction,” he replied.

Michael and Falon arrived at the old woman’s house as the sun kissed the horizon. Michael gave Falon a reassuring smile and knocked on the door. They had debated the sensibility of taking the old woman’s offer all the way from town and she remained suspicious.

The old woman smiled warmly when she laid sight on them. “Ah, you do have some sense after all. Well, don’t let it blow away with the wind standing there. Come in, come in.”

Her home was a cramped, two-room shack filled with shelves of books, containers, flasks and other oddities. Michael and Falon exchanged a brief look.

“It’s not much, but it’s home,” the woman said. She motioned to two chairs bordering a rug in front of the fireplace. “Sit.”

Michael sat on the floor giving the chair to Falon, prompting a chuckled from Marla.

“My name is Marla. Who might you two be?” she said as she added a log to the fire.

Michael looked at Falon wondering if she would bite his head off for telling Marla their names. He couldn’t be rude and not tell their host something though. “I’m Michael and this is Falon.”

“Fine names. Pleased to meet you,” Marla said, turning from the fireplace. She took a moment to settle into her chair. “Now, I suppose you’re wondering what you’re doing here, hmm?” She smiled at their quick glance between one another. “Well, to be honest, I’m wondering what one as powerful as you”—she pointed at Michael—”is doing in Valan at all. Don’t you know how to read a map?”

“We had no choice. We were attacked in the mountains and had no way to cross the Kisenar River so we...” Michael stopped, realizing he was saying too much.

Concern covered Marla’s face. “Attacked in the mountains? By whom? Where were you going?”

“We don’t want to discuss it,” Falon said, giving Michael a sharp look. “No offense, but we don’t know you. We just want a place to sleep for the night.”

“Fair enough,” Marla replied, her smile returning. She motioned to a cupboard, “Fetch my tea cups, please.” She moved to the fire where a pot of water boiled.

“How did you know I was a magichae?” Michael asked.

“Cups, please. We can at least have tea like civilized people.”

Michael fetched the cups reluctantly and returned to the fire.

Marla poured water in each of their cups then produced three silver tea balls. She sat bobbing her tea ball in her cup.

Her deliberate patience annoyed Michael. “You’re not a stripling. How did you know—”

Marla held up a finger silencing him. Michael brooded but had no choice but to wait patiently as she focused on steeping her tea. Michael took a sip from his own cup. It was different, a bit lighter with a green tinge to it, but pleasant. Maybe he needed to let it steep longer.

“Fifteen years I’ve been hiding under their noses,” Marla said, staring into her cup. “Fifteen years I’ve been helping magichae sneak out of Valan.” She looked straight into Michael’s eyes, her intense gaze boring into him. He felt like she could see all his secrets. “Never have I met one as powerful as you.”

Michael licked his lips nervously. Why were they suddenly so dry? Falon looked fearful.

“Relax, child. If I wanted to turn you in, I would’ve done so in town. I can sense other magichae; a rarity for our kind, and a most valuable tool for my job.”

“Our kind?” Falon said. “You’re a magichae and you can sense other magichae?”

“That I can, my dear.”

“And that’s why you invited us here?” Falon asked.

“Of course it is. You never know when a team of Seekers will show up in town. It would not bode well for you to have them arrive in the night while you were sleeping.”

“Seekers?”

“One stripling teamed up with one magichae. They roam Valan seeking out magichae. It’s a crazy idea, magichae working with striplings. The king’s advisor thought it up. He’s an evil man, that one. The magichae are given a choice; serve the king as protectors to his Seekers or face the gallows. Nasty part is if they decline the king’s generous offer their family goes to the gallows with them, even the children. If the Seeker dies, a member of the magichae’s family dies. Tends to be a strong incentive to do their job well. And if they run, well they do so knowing they have sentenced their entire family to death.

Michael exchanged a glance with Falon.

“From the look of it you already ran into a Seeker,” Marla said.

“We were attacked in Lyndham,” Michael replied.

“The Seekers are highly effective. How did you manage to escape without alerting others?”

“Falon is quite skilled with knives. She managed to dispatch them before I had to use my powers,” Michael said

“I see.” Marla looked at each of them in turn.

He could tell she knew there was more to the story.

“So did you strip the magichae?” Marla asked casually.

Falon dropped her teacup, green tea soaking into the rug. Why was she glaring at him? It wasn’t his fault the old woman had the smarts to figure it out.

“I did what I had to,” Falon snapped. “To save Michael,” she added, like a child afraid her parents would not believe her. “The wizard grabbed me when I killed the stripling. It just happened, I didn’t have a choice.”

“Relax, dear, I’m not judging you. I feel sorry for the magichae. He was forced to work for the king. In the end, I think you released him from a tormented life. May the Creator’s grace welcome him home.”

“So do you work alone?” Michael asked, desperate to take the focus off Falon. “Saving magichae I mean.”

“Heavens, no. There’s an extensive underground network helping magichae escape this horrible land. We use various routes to smuggle them out depending on where they’re found. We even have a path through the Chelean Mountains.”

Falon and Michael looked at each other.

“What?” Marla asked.

“Nothing,” Falon replied.

“Nothing my eye. What do you two know?”

“Your path through the mountains doesn’t involve a rope bridge does it?” Michael asked.

“Yes,” Marla replied slowly, her face growing dark.

“Not anymore,” Falon said.

“Why? What’ve you done?”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Michael countered. “The dragon attacked us and—”

Marla’s eyebrows furrowed, “What dragon?”

She reminded Michael of Max far too much. He recounted their fight with the dragon, leaving the Eye out of it. Luckily she did not question him when he lied about using Air to stab the dragon.

“Congratulations,” Marla said when he finished. “You managed to ruin an important route for us.”

“It wasn’t exactly our doing,” Falon shot back.

“Doesn’t matter! I’ll have to send a message alerting the northern group before someone gets trapped in the mountains. I’m the last point in the northeast corridor so they will send their packages to me now.”

“I’m sorry for the trouble we’ve caused,” Michael said. “You will help us escape though?”

Marla’s face softened. “Of course I will. Best if you stay till tomorrow night. You look like you need the rest.”

“How far is it to Lockhart?”

“Lockhart?” She said the name like she had a bitter taste in her mouth. “Four days on foot. Meeting someone?”

“We have friends waiting for us.”

“It’s not safe for magichae. There’re Seekers patrolling the road to Lockhart. They’ve caught some on the bridge mere paces from freedom. I’ve heard Seekers are even stationed in Lockhart, secretly of course. I haven’t heard of any magichae stripped in Lockhart. Then again, I don’t hear everything. Many magichae come through Finery’s Way, headed toward Lockhart. I steer them to a safer route. The Alarus border is only a day due east. We have people on the other side who help with crossing the Kisenar. You can reach Lockhart from there.”

Marla stood up, smoothing her dress. “Well, it’s late and my old bones are asking for my bed.” She nodded toward a simple chest. “You will find blankets in there. Sorry, the accommodations are not any better.”

“The accommodations are fine,” Michael said.

They slept on the floor, Falon keeping a space between them. Michael fell asleep trying to figure out what he had done to make her walls go back up.

C
HAPTER
29

The Price of Love