Child of the Sword, Book 1 of The Gods Within (5 page)

Malka frowned. “These are nightmares
then?”

“No. On the contrary. He considers the
skeleton king a friend, or actually a mentor, even looks forward to
meeting him in his next dream, and is disappointed if he doesn’t.
Sometimes they talk, discuss his problems much like a father and
son might. It’s all very curious.”

“And of no real import,” Olivia interjected.
“It certainly has no bearing on his heritage. The child is probably
the son of a clansman; lost, stolen, or abandoned for some reason
shortly after birth, probably the get of some prostitute. The boy
obviously possesses much power and may someday be of use. So he
will be raised as a clansman.”

She turned to AnnaRail. “You accepted
responsibility for him, and now it appears that that responsibility
may last his lifetime. Are you prepared to accept that?”

AnnaRail tried not to show her reluctance as
she nodded.

“Very well. The boy will be treated as close
kin. And as with all close kin, we will all lend a hand in his
upbringing. Is that clear?” This time Olivia looked to Marjinell
for an answer.

“Yes, mother,” she said meekly.

“Good,” Olivia said. “I have spoken. You may
go now, for I wish to be alone.”

~~~

Morgin sat in the corner where he’d found a
comfortable shadow, sobbing quietly. He hated the witches, all of
them. Well . . . perhaps not AnnaRail. She was kind,
and when she did punish him, somehow he knew it hurt her too. And
NickoLot. Nicki was all smiles and happiness, a tiny bundle of
energy, pink skin and big round eyes. Morgin loved to hold her in
his arms and make faces at her, and she would laugh and giggle. But
he hated all the rest, especially JohnEngine and the other boys his
age. They were mean, always taunting him, and when he tried to hide
from them Roland would punish him, telling him to stop making
magic.

At first Morgin had tried to tell them that
he didn’t know any magic. That was for witches, not him. But Malka
had told him that he too was a witchman, and Morgin had finally
come to realize that was why they’d taken him in. He was a
witchman—like them—and he wasn’t supposed to make magic. He wasn’t
supposed to make shadows and hide in them either, but he didn’t
make shadow, and shadow wasn’t magic. Shadow was just shadow.

AnnaRail had spanked him. Malka had spanked
him. Marjinell and Roland and Avis and even MichaelOff had spanked
him, all but the old witchwoman Olivia. She he rarely saw, so he
wasn’t sure if he really did hate her, but he thought about it
carefully and decided to hate her on general principal anyway. And
maybe he didn’t hate Annaline and DaNoel, JohnEngine’s older sister
and brother, or Brandon, MichaelOff’s younger brother, but he hated
all the rest, especially JohnEngine for picking on him, and Roland
for spanking him when he did. He tucked his knees up close to his
chest, buried his face in his arms, and continued sobbing. He
wanted to run away and go back to the city, but that was so far,
and he knew he could never find it. The best he could do was find a
place to be alone, like now, in the Hall of Wills where it was
empty and dark, with many comfortable shadows.

The large wooden door at the end of the Hall
opened suddenly, spilling light across the floor. It was the
witchman Roland carrying a lamp.

Morgin muttered the words of power AnnaRail
had taught him. She said that if he concentrated hard enough, they
would help him learn control. So he muttered and concentrated,
fearful that, as before, it wouldn’t help, and Roland would spank
him.

The footsteps approached from across the
room. Morgin squeezed his eyes shut and whispered the words over
and over, thinking about each in its turn, knowing that he would
fail. The footsteps stopped only inches away. “Very good, Morgin.
You’re learning. Now try to relax when you concentrate and you’ll
find it easier.”

Morgin squeezed his eyes open. Roland stood
over him, smiling. “Avis tells me you weren’t at dinner with the
rest of the children. Are you still sulking over that spanking I
gave you?”

Morgin dare not answer.

“Are you hungry?”

Morgin nodded.

“Good. So am I.” Roland extended his hand.
“Come. Let’s get something to eat. I’m sure we can find some
leftovers to munch on. And we can talk, you and me. What do you
say?”

Morgin said nothing, though his stomach
growled an answer instead. He stood and cautiously accepted
Roland’s outstretched hand.

~~~

“How is JohnEngine?” Olivia demanded,
storming into AnnaRail’s chambers. “I hear Morgin hurt him rather
badly. I swear I’ll personally tear that little guttersnipe apart
with my bare hands.”

“Calm down, mother,” AnnaRail said.
“JohnEngine has some bruises and minor cuts that will heal quickly,
and he will hopefully learn something about picking fights.
Besides, how much damage can two eight year old boys do to one
another?”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed angrily. “You say
JohnEngine picked the fight?”

AnnaRail nodded. “And Morgin gave him a
sound thrashing. Unfortunately, he used his shadows to do it and
he’s been punished for that, as JohnEngine has been punished for
picking the fight in the first place.”

Olivia frowned, perplexed. “I don’t
understand you. You sound pleased.”

AnnaRail shrugged. “In a way, I am. It seems
JohnEngine has been picking on Morgin regularly, has been acting
the bully, inciting the other boys against him; a very cowardly
thing, but I suppose a very boyish thing.

“Well now, it seems that JohnEngine was up
to his usual tricks this afternoon. And Morgin, as he has been
known to do before when faced with a difficult situation, vanished
into a shadow. But instead of going someplace to hide as usual, he
turned on JohnEngine and beat him mercilessly. I’m afraid
JohnEngine was utterly helpless against an opponent that was
virtually invisible.” AnnaRail smiled and chuckled.

“But I don’t understand you,” Olivia said.
“You seem to be happy about that.”

“Oh I am, mother. What better way for
JohnEngine to learn the rightful reward for cowardly violence than
to be punished by his intended victim? I hope JohnEngine learned
something today.

“And look at Morgin. He finally faced up to
someone he was afraid of. I’ve been waiting for two years to see
that. It’s the first time he hasn’t run, the first time he’s stood
up to his fears.”

Olivia nodded. Her frown slowly changed to a
look of comprehension. “I begin to understand,” she said. “But this
Morgin child is an odd one, what with his shadows. I would like to
speak with him. Where is he?”

AnnaRail shrugged. “Actually, I don’t
know.”

Olivia’s frown returned. “You don’t
know?”

“No,” AnnaRail said. “He seems to have found
a hiding place with a certain enchantment to it, for I can detect
him neither here nor in the netherworld.”

“That is serious, daughter.”

AnnaRail shook her head. “Not really,” she
said. “He’s used it before, but never for more than an hour or two,
and only when he felt badly hurt. We all need a place to be alone
at times, and he has his. I’ll only begin to worry if he’s gone
over long.”

Olivia considered AnnaRail’s words for a
moment, then shrugged. “Very well. We’ll allow the brat his private
hole, as long as he doesn’t abuse the privilege.”

And with that, Olivia turned and left, and
was gone as quickly as she’d come.

~~~

Morgin sat smugly within his alcove and
watched the witches pass by. They were looking for him, but they
would not find him, not as long as he stayed within the alcove.
Even Roland could not find him here.

He had decided that this time he would never
leave the alcove. He would stay here forever, and the witches could
search for him until they were blue. If only he’d thought to bring
along some food.

DaNoel and MichaelOff stopped in the hallway
just outside the alcove.

“Any sign of him?” MichaelOff asked.

“No,” said DaNoel. He leaned against what to
him was solid stone wall, but to Morgin it was the entrance to the
alcove, a space through which he could easily pass. From within he
could see the flesh of DaNoel’s hand flatten as it pressed against
a wall that Morgin did not perceive as even being there.

“Why do we have to waste our time looking
for him?” DaNoel asked angrily.

“Because grandmother wants to find him,”
MichaelOff said, “and is angry that she can’t. Your mother says to
look for a short while then don’t bother any longer. She said
she’ll take care of grandmother.”

DaNoel shook his head, pulled his hand away
from the wall, and he and MichaelOff walked away down the hall.

Morgin had been standing with his nose only
inches from DaNoel’s hand, marveling at how the older boy could
lean against nothing. He had always known the alcove was a magical
place, for no one could find him when he hid there. He’d gone
looking for it a hundred times and it was never where it should be,
nor anywhere else for that matter. But when he desperately needed a
place where the wizards and witches could not find him, then it
would appear in the oddest of places; an alcove, several feet deep,
sometimes set in a wall only inches thick. He’d always known it was
enchanted, and now DaNoel’s hand had confirmed that.

His stomach growled. He was hungry, and
getting hungrier. Perhaps he could sneak into the kitchen, steal
some food, and return before he was caught. With that thought in
mind he stepped out into the hall, then suddenly realized the
mistake he’d made. He spun about to confront a featureless stone
wall. The alcove was gone, and he knew from experience that he
would not see it again until it was ready.

Morgin stood motionless as the other boys
closed in upon him. There was no escape, no rescue, so he made a
run for it, charging into their midst with all the speed and force
he could muster. Badly outnumbered, he ended up face down in the
dirt with several of them on top of him, then was lifted back to
his feet by their combined strength. He struggled uselessly, then,
as both of his arms were twisted painfully behind his back, tried
to cry out, but his screams were muffled by an old rag that someone
crammed into his mouth. Finally, defeated, he lay still.

JohnEngine swaggered forward. He looked
Morgin over carefully, scornfully, then spoke loudly, addressing
the other boys. “It seems we have captured some vermin here,” he
said, his fists resting arrogantly on his hips. “Now what is to be
done with vermin? Any ideas?”

“Throw him in the river,” someone
shouted.

JohnEngine shook his head. “No. The river’s
too far, too much trouble.”

“The pig wallow,” someone else
suggested.

Again JohnEngine shook his head. “No. The
pig wallow will only make him homesick.”

They all laughed.

“No,” JohnEngine said. “We have to teach
this vermin a lesson.” He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit
up with an idea. He reached into his tunic and pulled out a short,
stubby candle.

The other boys snickered, seeing in the
candle some significance that was not evident to Morgin.

“Let’s go,” JohnEngine hollered, and they
dragged him away to some unknown purpose.

He was half carried, half pushed, to a dank,
musty, subterranean storage room deep within the bowels of the
castle. It was an old room filled with abandoned casks and pots and
chests, the contents of which held no interest for Morgin’s
captors. While three of them held him, the rest dismantled a
considerable pile of refuse that had been stacked in one corner,
finally exposing a large and jagged hole in the wall, beyond which
resided complete darkness.

“What’s that?” Morgin asked.

JohnEngine smiled. “Elhiyne goes far deeper
into the earth than most people know. The old castle was built
almost entirely underground, though most of it has since been
walled off. But here, we have access, and you, vermin, are going to
join us while we do some exploring.”

Morgin resisted, but his efforts were futile
against so many. They pulled him through the jagged hole, laughing
at him. Inside they paused only to light a candle, then they
dragged him off into the darkness.

Morgin realized instantly that these were
not crude caves but smooth, stone walls with ceilings and floors.
And while he could see little in the flickering shadows of the
candle’s light, he found that in the ways of Rat the thief he knew
the darkness as his captors never would. A sudden calm descended
upon him as he realized that he need only bide his time.

At each intersection of the ancient
corridors the boys paused to examine chalk marks on the walls. They
had placed some code there during earlier explorations, a code that
appeared to inform them of their location, and was obviously the
means by which they intended to return. Morgin began to understand
that the corridors of the old castle were labyrinthine.

Eventually they pulled him into a narrow
side passage, with walls and ceiling so close that they held the
flickering shadows of the candle almost at hand. They stopped at a
small wooden door, pulled it open and hurled him into the room
beyond. He tumbled across the dusty floor of what he guessed to be
a rather small cell of unknown purpose. JohnEngine and his
followers entered behind him.

“We’re going to leave you now, vermin,”
JohnEngine said. “I would advise you not to strike out on your own.
Without a candle you stand no chance, and even with one you’d not
understand our guide markings. And if you’re foolish enough to
become hopelessly lost, not even we can find you then, and you’ll
rot here for the rest of your days.”

“Will you come back for me?” Morgin
asked.