Esra (14 page)

       “That’s awful.”  Meshok sighed heavily in agreement and began licking Esra’s shin. She had no idea that Tallen could be powerful enough to kill someone over a great distance.  It was not encouraging information.  No wonder most of the people of LeVara were wary of magick. “So how long have ye been Keepers?  How many tests have ye passed?”

       Arland took to answering this question.  “Well, we are all Fours, so we have passed all tests but one.  Baelin has been a Keeper the longest, and Nadia and I have been Keepers since we were very young, perhaps about seven or eight.  So we have been training fer almost a decade.  Fynn is one of the more recent additions, coming in about five years ago.  He was already in his twenties.  A late bloomer, ye could say.”

       “I’ll show ye a late bloomer!” Fynn shook his fist playfully at his friend.  “Mature, that’s what I was.  Practicing advanced Herbal medicine when ye was just a bop in his skivvies.”

        “But isn’t passing four tests very difficult to do?” Esra asked. “Cane had told me it was extremely rare, and that usually a Three of Four was the leader of an Assembly of Keepers.”

       Arland smiled proudly, “Aye, it is very difficult, and equally as rare.  Usually we would be split up among various Assemblies as leaders, but we were put together with a special purpose.  We always knew, or hoped at least, that ye would be the last one to join us.”

       “But I don’t know any magick!”

“Sure ye do, ye just haven’t tried it yet.”

“How can ye be so sure?”

“I’m not.”

Esra stared at him incredulously. “So who is the Fifth of yer Assembly, the leader?”

       “Baelin.”

       “And what happens if ye don’t pass a test?  Do ye ever get to try again?”

       “Aye, but ye must wait five years,” Arland explained.  “Tests are not something that are handed out lightly.  They are a great honor, a symbol of advancement.  As fer that rash on yer arm, it does have a purpose.  It’s not actually a rash, but the markings of a Keeper.  It’s how we communicate, a language ye have already learned, called Tur.  Look here.”

       He put his forearm palm up in front of her as she studied the rash.  The markings began to move on his skin, and a faint glowing came from behind the black shapes.  It was like they were insects, crawling around to arrange themselves into lines of glowing black script.  Esra was astounded as she began to slowly read the newly formed text, pulling the language from her lessons with Cane. 

      
Arland, Keeper of Charm.

       “Bumbling Huckfly.  Does it hurt?”

       He smiled cheerfully, “Good reading!  No, it doesn’t hurt.  I believe that it felt the worst when it was first appearing, burning and itching like mad.  That’s why many people mistake it as a rash.  Ye can’t get into the Stronghold without these markings, or Tur.  A spell protects the fortress so that one who is not truly a Keeper can never find it.”

       “But ye said ye use these to communicate?” 

       “Yes,” Arland continued. “That is the more complicated part.  A Keeper can store information with their Tur like they could writing on a scroll.  We often use Tur to collect maps, new spells, and other details about a task before we leave the Stronghold.  But there is another reason that Keepers always travel in groups of five.  By putting together our Tur, we can perform much more powerful magick.  We can communicate directly with the Great Keepers, but only when there are five of us.  We actually used Tur to talk with Cane just before ye were captured on Trader’s Day.”

       Esra nodded.  She had never looked at her teacher’s forearms before.  Then again, she had never had the opportunity since he always wore long tunics, no matter what the weather.  To think that he could have been receiving a magickal Tur message during one of their lessons was odd.  “So ye put yer arms together and communicate?  Sounds very strange.”

       “Ye don’t know the half of it,” Fynn joked.  “Ye haven’t seen strange ‘til ye’ve been with all of us.”

       “So who was the fifth?”  Esra asked.  “Ye said ye need five, but there are only four of ye.”

       “Very perceptive,” Arland commended.  “Ye listen well.  The fifth Keeper was actually Lara.  She came into the woods a few times to help us.”

       “Lara!” She exclaimed.  A hint of betrayal brushed against the center of her chest at the thought of her friend’s secret.  “I had no idea.”

       “Well, Lara doesn’t actively work with the Keepers on tasks anymore.  She had chosen to move to Sorley with her husband to try and watch out fer ye.”

       “Mr. Sturik is a Keeper, too?”

       “No, but his brother is one, which is why Lara could marry him without much explanation or trouble.  He already knew most of what happens.  And Lara is the Keeper of Tranquility, so I daresay she reassured him through any of his fears.”

       Esra thought back to all the times she had felt a calmness settle upon her when entering the shop.  The Mitroot tea that brought such serenity that she could never duplicate.  How people trusted Lara with their deepest secrets and desires.  It all made sense in a new way.  Esra felt a lump grow in her throat as she was overcome by a feeling of great sadness.  “So many people in my life are forced to keep secrets, to hide who they are.  How awful to have to fight against one’s nature, deny yer true self.  But part of me is proud that the people dear to me, people of Sorley, have such talents.  These are remarkable skills.  If only they would be able to share them openly again.”

       Esra turned towards her old blacksmith friend.  “And what are ye the Keeper of?” 

       “Actually,” Nadia offered, “Baelin is the only person ever known to be a dual Keeper.  At first he was called forth to be the Keeper of Arms, after completing his first test.  That was fairly obvious to everyone.  I’m sure yer familiar with some of his work.  His craftsmanship is unmatched by any in the Kingdom.  He can work with any metal, any wood, any element, to create weapons and armor in perfection. ”

       Esra lightly touched the Great Wolf blade that was tucked safely inside her boot.  She wasn’t surprised by this one revelation at least.  “I see.”

       “The things ye’ve seen at Sorley are only a few of the items I can make,” Baelin explained.  “I also had te be very careful that my skill wouldn’t bring too much attention.  I make weapons fer all the Keepers, except those that receive them as a gift, like Fynn and Arland.”

       “That’s true,” Arland pulled out his greatsword and offered it to Esra.  She stroked the flat surface of the sword hesitantly, the cold metal sending a chill down her spine.  The blade gave off a subtle reddish hue, almost a glow like Fire. 

       “So ye are the one I saw in the camp, surrounded by a group of Elites?”  Esra thought back to the beautiful arc of a blade in the Firelight, the calm warrior overcoming his attackers with ease.

       “Aye, that was me,” Arland confirmed.  “This is the Greatsword of Narajuv, which I received as a Gift fer passing my first test.”

       “Yer very skilled in yer weapon of choice, I must say.  Ye should have been a Keeper of Sword.”

       He must have noticed the slight pause as she said this, for he offered her an explanation.  “It does seem strange at first when ye hear that a Keeper of Charm would be in such an esteemed Assembly, I agree.  Especially when ye see such battle ready skills like a Keeper of Arms and Stealth and even Earth.  What is the use in being Charming, ye must wonder?”

       Esra blushed at his forwardness, but was inwardly thinking the exact same thing.  He was undeniably charming, but she didn’t see how that could aide much in a tight situation.  Unless you could woo an Elite soldier while one of the others clobbered him.

       “Well,” he continued, “to state the more obvious of my abilities, I can attract or distract people.  That can certainly be an advantage, especially when I work with Nadia to get into or out of somewhere we shouldn’t be.  As twins, our skills work together very well.  But although Fynn will claim, jealously of course, that I am nothing more than a pretty face, that isn’t quite true.  I have the ability to not only charm people, but influence them, and objects as well.  I can bend something’s purpose or will to me as Baelin bends metal.  I am also extremely lucky, so ye will find that just being near me will increase yer chances of success at most things.”

       “Sounds like very good skills to have handy if ye ask me,” Esra nodded, impressed. 

       “Aye, I keep trying te get him te go gambling at the pub, but he ne’er will,” Fynn complained.  “Claims it isn’t fair or such nonsense.  And that Keepers should be honest.  Blah blah.”

       Esra chuckled and turned her attention back to the greatsword as she ran her hand along the smooth blade, the intricately carved inscriptions running down its length.  Although it was obvious that Arland was very fond of this weapon, it showed no signs of wear.  She had not known a piece of metal could be so beautiful.  “What are the carvings on the blade and hilt?” 

       “They are the markings of my people, similar to the ones I carry on my forehead.  As fer the rest of us here, Fynn is a skilled archer.  The Longbow, as ye’ve already seen.  Baelin likes to use a staff of his own creation.  It has a dagger-like metal tip on one end and a spiked metal ball on the other.  I daresay it is a heavy and difficult weapon to wield, but he has mastered it, and it makes him a formidable and intimidating opponent.  I use the Greatsword of Narajuv and Nadia uses lances, or throwing spears.  She also keeps a dagger fer up close encounters, but it’s rare that she is seen when she doesn’t want to be, or that she’d miss a target with her spears in the first place.”

       Esra had a flash of a man in the camp being pierced by a spear-like weapon. “Yer all very good warriors, then?”

       “The best, actually,” Nadia said proudly.  “We have been training fer this fer quite some time.”

       Esra sat in awe that she was surrounded by such skilled sorcerers and warriors.  Surely she had never met anyone like them.  And to think that there were so many more of them.  “But how am I supposed to be a part of an Assembly when I’ve exhibited no better talent than proficient reading?  It just doesn’t make any sense.  And Baelin, they said ye were a dual Keeper.  So what is the other thing that ye are to keep?”

       He stared at her unwaveringly.  “Ye, Esra.”

XIII

       “Me?” Esra exclaimed.  “Why do I need a Keeper?”

       “Well,” Nadia started, “he was in Sorley to protect ye.  He’s yer guardian.”

       That explained why Baelin had arrived so suddenly in a town where he had no family or other reason to be there.  Why a skilled blacksmith would want to hide away in the middle of nowhere.  Esra could not keep her frustration from growing once again.  Everything was becoming a lie.  Was he even really her friend?

       “But why do I need a guardian?  Why are Tallen and his Elites even after me?”

       “Maybe it’s easier if we show ye,” Nadia suggested.  She held out her arms palm up to the center of the group.  The others joined her, placing their forearms up against one another to create a wavy row of skin.  They looked to Esra and she reluctantly turned her arms palm up and added them to the line.  As she did, she felt a tingling sensation as the shimmering black text began to snake itself across her arms. 

       “Although we must all concentrate on Cane, only one of us should be the main speaker so as not to confuse everything.  Focus yer thoughts on trying to communicate with Cane.  Baelin will tell him that yer alright.”  The peculiar script felt like a spider that was slowly making its way across her skin, and she fought the urge to brush it off.  This time the Tur seemed to be different from what Arland had shown her.  The script was brighter, like a light shone from behind their skin, illuminating the dark moving lines.  The lines soon came together, and she began to read the message:

      
Hello, Esra, it’s Cane.  I’m glad yer safe.  I am also pleased to see that our studies of the Tur are coming into good use.  Please trust yer new friends and make it back to the Stronghold soon.  Yer mother and father cannot wait to see ye.  And Esra, please do not be too angry.

       She jerked her arm away from the group and the writing disappeared.

       “Is that a joke?” Esra spat angrily.  “My parents are dead.”

       “No, they’re not,” Baelin said quietly.  The other three looked uncomfortably at the blacksmith, then back at Esra.  She did not wait for an explanation.  In one swift movement Esra was on her feet and running towards the forest.  She was not sure where she was headed, but she did not want to be anywhere near those people and their lies.

       She ran hard, feeling the rage gain strength every time her foot hit the ground.  She wanted to stay angry, to refuse to believe their ridiculous tales.  But the running couldn’t erase what they had said.  The words haunted Esra, and she ran even faster trying to escape them.  Her breath came out in great heaving gasps and her legs trembled beneath her, whether from anger or the exertion she wasn’t sure.  The space behind her eyes seemed to ache with this knowledge, and she resented not running back to Sorley the second she had awoken next to the Fire.  They were all liars.

Stumbling in her exhaustion, she fell to the ground, drained, as Meshok emerged from behind a Tree.  The Great Wolf always seemed to know when she was upset.  Esra buried her face in her one true friend’s fur and let out a muffled sob.  Meshok tenderly licked her salty face, trying to calm the frantic mess on the forest floor. 

       “I’m sorry, Esra,” she looked up to see Baelin standing over her with a pained expression.  “I wanted te tell ye, but I couldn’t.  Yer parents, they are Keepers.  I understand how ye feel…”

       “Go away.” She turned her head so that he could not see the streaks of tears that were running down her face.