Glyphbinder (6 page)

Kara fell onto her bed and stared at the ceiling, at cedar slats dusty with age. She felt a pang of loneliness. She would be leaving Solyr, leaving Sera, and Byn, and Halde. She had won a tremendous opportunity, but she would face it without her friends.

She rolled to face Sera, and Sera’s eyes went wide. “What did they say, Kara?”

“They made their decision.”

“Who did they choose?”

“Please.” Kara huffed. “I’m smiling, aren’t I?”

Sera flung herself across the room, throwing her arms around Kara and knocking her down. Laughing. Her friend hugged her and Kara hugged her back, laughing as well. Nothing could be better.

Sera beamed at her. “I knew they would choose you. I knew it all along.”

“Sure you did. You read their minds.”

“I’d never do that, but I knew you deserved it.”

Kara knew then she had done something wrong. “What is it?”

“I…” Sera sat up. “I’ve been tutoring Aryn. For over five years.”

Kara didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, not right then. It was common for advanced students to tutor those who struggled with their studies at Solyr, and Jair tutored students all the time. So why did Sera’s admission cause such hurt?

Sera sat on Kara’s bed and waited for judgment. Kara didn’t know how to judge her, didn’t think she deserved to. Yet she had to say something. Do something other than stare.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Kara asked finally.

“There was no reason to, not at first. After you and Aryn began competing for royal apprentice, I was afraid you’d make me choose between you.”

“I’d never—“

“I couldn’t do that. Aryn needed someone who wasn’t interested in his money, someone he could trust. We trust each other. Aryn and I were friends long before we came to Solyr, you know.”

“I didn’t know, but it’s okay.”

“His father sent Aryn to visit my family in Cyan every summer. We were just children then, but something about him … he just entranced me. Aryn wasn’t always as hard as he is today. There’s a kind man in him somewhere, hidden away where we can’t see. We were very close as children, before we both came to Solyr.”

Kara didn’t say anything else, and Sera seemed content to remain the only voice in the room. Kara tried to imagine Aryn when he was little, laughing, playing with Sera. Being a playful child and not a spoiled prick. She imagined as hard as she could.

“You remember when we met?” Sera asked. “At Elder Cantrall’s dream sessions? You and Aryn were at each other’s throats even then. I liked you, but I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I know that now, but I didn’t then. I don’t like confrontation, and once we became friends I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed of never mentioning it. It didn’t seem like it mattered, not until you started competing, and then what could I say?”

“Stop,” Kara said. “This doesn’t matter.”

“I was tutoring Aryn long before you two began competing.” Sera didn’t stop. “I thought about quitting, but he needed me. If I’d not helped him he would have flunked out, yet I kept thinking … what if he beats you? What if they nominate him as royal apprentice? It would be my fault.”             

“That’s silly. You didn’t—”

“It’s over now,” Sera interrupted, and she did a lot of that when she needed to say something. “You’ve won your nomination and Aryn will graduate as a certified Firebrand. So please, don’t be angry with him. I know he’s difficult, but you’ve only seen one side of him, and it’s not his best. I understand, though, if you’re angry with me.”

Kara gripped Sera’s arms. “Now you’re just being dense. You and Byn are my best friends in Solyr, my
only
friends.”

“I don’t expect you to forgive me for lying to you all this time.”

“An omission’s not really a lie, and sure, you helped him. You’d help anyone who asked, with your soft heart as big as it is. You’re my best friend no matter what. So stop being a moron about this.”

“I should have known you’d understand.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I won’t be a moron anymore.”

Kara chuckled for Sera’s benefit and gave her a squeeze. All she could manage without keeling over. Sera hopped up, walked back to her bed, and dropped onto it with a satisfied huff.

Kara settled against her own pillow, kicking her boots off. She did not bother with her clothes. As she pulled the thin linen sheet over her body, she considered Jair’s warning with new eyes.

A man with nothing to lose is most dangerous of all.

Aryn had finished his studies, which meant Sera was done tutoring him. Which meant they were done seeing each other. Kara had always suspected Aryn might be sweet on Sera, and what she’d learned tonight confirmed it. That boastful idiot loved her.

Kara knew Aryn had never told Sera how he felt. Sera would have mentioned it. Now he was heading home to Locke while Sera stayed at Solyr, and as ridiculous as it seemed, he likely blamed Kara for that. For taking him from Sera.

Had Aryn really thought winning the post of royal apprentice would simply allow him to sweep Sera off her feet? Did he really think she would toss aside Byn so easily, toss aside the man she was planning to marry? Was he really that much of a fool?

Kara remained awake long after Sera slept. She kept replaying the events of the day, along with Jair’s grim warning, until Sera’s enhancement drained away. Then she couldn’t replay anything. A rush of exhaustion hit her all at once and Kara slipped into sleep.

The Tellvan man waited there, face covered in blood.

TRELL FORCED HIS EYES open and blinked against bright light. It hurt. The scent of cinnamon and incense filled his nose. His lids felt heavy, weighted by sleep. He heard someone talking, a whisper that grew to a murmur that grew into words.

“… all right. It’s all right. It’s all right.”

White faded to gray, then to blurry vision, and then Trell saw an older woman in a white robe gripping his arm.

“You are safe,” the woman said. Gray hair made a ponytail at the back of her head, but she was otherwise bald. “You’re in a healing room in the Magic Academy of Solyr.”

Trell did not feel safe — he was not sure what he felt, having opened his eyes in a room he knew nothing about — but he knew he reclined on a soft bed. The room had brown walls, and aged cedar lined the ceiling. Two strange blue torches lit it with white light.

Trell ran his fingers across soft cloth pants, over a bare chest wrapped in bandages. His head pounded and his lungs ached, and he had no idea why they would. He could not remember where he was or how he had come here, but that was far from the worst of it.

He could not remember who he was.

“I need you to focus, to think.” The woman released his arm. “Can you understand me?”

“Who are you?” Trell didn’t recognize his own voice.

“I am Senior Mender Landra. I’ve helped heal your wounds.”

“You said … this is a magic academy?”

“Yes. You will be weak for another day, but you will live.”

Trell swallowed a knife of pain and searched for any memory of his life, anything other than these four walls. Did he have family, friends? Did he have anyone waiting for him at home? Where was home? He could not answer these questions and that made his heart pound. He could not live like this, unable to remember who he was.

“How did I get here?” It was the least of his questions.

“One of our initiates found and brought you to us. You were stung by a grayback. Do you know how that happened?”

Trell remembered the ring of steel on steel, rough sand tearing at his skin, but nothing about graybacks. He knew they were wolves, but could not recall if he had ever seen one. He clenched his hands, closed his eyes, and tried not to scream.

“Do you remember your name?” Landra asked.

“My name is … Trell.” He knew that, and that gave him hope there could be more hidden inside him. More facts. More memories. He made that calm his pounding heart.

“From where do you hail?”

Trell didn’t answer. He didn’t know. “What happened to my head?”

“Your clothes were soaked with water. It came from the Layn River, almost two leagues away. I would guess you fell in. Perhaps you hit your head on a rock.”

Trell remembered bitter cold filling his lungs and felt a thrill of recognition. “I was in a river.” Had he almost drowned?

“That’s good. Remember. Did someone attack you?”

Trell clung to the memory of ringing swords, the feeling of being overwhelmed and desperate, yet the memories slipped through his fingers like sand in the desert. “I don’t know. I don’t know!”

“Calm yourself.” Landra’s warm, rough hand covered his. “These holes in your memories might only be temporary. They could come back to you in these next days.”

“Might? Could?”

“I will not coat this with honey. A rock or some other agent inflicted severe damage to your head. I helped with what I could, but I do not know how deep the damage went.”

“How can you not know? Aren’t you a healer?”

“What I know, Trell, is that you live. The Five granted you a second life. Earn it.”

Trell felt his cheeks flush as he recognized all this woman had done for him, all her hard work in keeping him alive. Now he was yelling at her. “I will.” He focused on her narrowed eyes. “Thank you for saving my life.”

Living gave him a chance to recover what he had lost. Trell could not remember anyone who loved him, but he knew they existed. He felt it in his heart, echoes of warm smiles and gentle touches from people who were now little more than ghosts in his head.

Landra brushed his cheek. “You owe nothing to me. To heal is my calling. The woman you should thank is Kara Tanner. She dragged you a considerable distance to bring you here.”

The name Kara seemed familiar. It felt like friend, or sister — a concept independent of any single memory. Who was she?

Landra had said his memories could return. He decided to take her at her word. He was a patient man, or at least he felt like one.

“I am grateful,” Trell said. “Can I meet her?” Had he met her before?

“You should not move about yet. Can this not wait until tomorrow?”

“Please. She may know ... perhaps she knows something that will help me remember.”

“Kara insisted on speaking with you as soon as you waked. You need to rest, but I won’t deny you both.” Landra sighed and rose. “How is the pain?”

“Less.” The inside of Trell’s head pulsed with each breath, like hands pushing at his skull from the inside. “I will live.”

“Good. Call me if the pain returns. You needn’t suffer.”

“I feel fine.” He had taken more than enough from this woman.

Landra slid open a thin panel in the side of the room. “Then relax. I will summon Kara. When I return, you’ll need to sleep again.”

As the panel slid shut, unwelcome silence tested Trell’s fragile calm. Sweat beaded his forehead and his world spun. He had lost so much of himself and had to focus on what he still knew.

He looked fit and strong, so he must exercise regularly. His palms and fingers were calloused, so he must work with his hands. This room was more humid than he liked, so perhaps he hailed from a dry climate. He clung to these revelations. Little things.

The panel of the healing room slid open and a woman with sun-kissed skin and long brown hair entered the room. She had a self-assured stride that was well short of arrogant. Trell knew immediately that
this
was the brave woman who had saved his life.

She was tall with well-muscled arms and an athletic frame. She wore a gray shirt with lines sewn across it, a pattern unlike any Trell had ever seen, and her pants might have been leather — yet Trell could not even be sure of that. The material hugged her legs, thinner and more flexible than any leather he had ever seen.

Her brown hair fell to the middle of her back, braided and wrapped in bands. Soft cheekbones complemented her slender nose and rounded chin. Her irises were bright, clear, and orange.

It was not a natural color, not even close, but her eyes fit her bearing, fit a woman this confident and strong. She smiled at him, and it felt like they had known each other forever.

“I’m glad you came.” Trell sat up. “Kara? I owe you my life.”

Kara walked to his bed as a hint of a blush colored her cheeks. She sat down beside him and looked him over, like a healer would examine a patient. Concern or curiosity? Trell had no idea.

“Yes, I’m Kara Tanner. Landra is a level-headed sort, but she does embellish things on occasion. All I did was drag you here. Landra and her healers saved your life.”

Trell smiled back. Both Landra and Kara had saved him, but neither felt he owed them for it. He focused on that, on good people who were willing to help him. The rarest kind.

“Even so, I’m here because of what you did for me. Thank you.”

“That’s a lovely place to leave it. May I ask who you are?”

“Trell.”

“Just Trell?”

Trell hesitated. “I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot remember much. Landra told me whatever hit my head … a rock? … it must have damaged my memory.”

“You’ve lost your memory.” Kara’s brow furrowed. “I don’t suppose you remember how you broke your leg?”

Trell glanced down at his legs. Both were fine. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t remember that.”

“Landra fixed it. She can do some amazing things. She even fixed that porthole in your head.”

“I see. You said there was a porthole. In my head?”

“Sometimes, I embellish things too.” Kara leaned close. “You really remember nothing of what happened? How you sustained your injuries? Nothing about trees?”

“Trees?” Her intense gaze left him feeling vulnerable, trapped. “No, not really. The last thing I remember is a town in the sand. Faces. Voices. Not much else.”

“You’re Tellvan, then.”

Trell thought about that.

“You mentioned sand, and there’s a lot of sand in Tellvan.”

“Perhaps you are right. But why can’t I remember?”

She huffed softly. “I wish I knew.”

The healing room panel slid open and a man of many years entered the room. When she saw him, Kara hopped off his bed and stood up. Trell’s gaze snapped to the newcomer.

The man wore a deep crimson robe that matched Landra’s in design. A golden, rounded sun hung from a silver chain around his neck, glittering with a corona of platinum. Spiky blue tattoos ran up his cheeks, surrounded his eyes, and wound down the sides of his nose to his dimples. They framed a short black beard.

“Elder Halde.” Kara bowed.

Trell stood as well, but before he could bow his legs gave way. Kara caught him, arms tense, and Trell stared at her. She was stronger than she looked.

“Please, stay seated,” Halde said. “We need not stand on ceremony.”

Trell pushed with trembling legs, embarrassed and conscious of how warm Kara’s hands felt clenched around his arms. She grunted as she helped him back onto the bed, mouth quirked.

“I know you have had difficulty with your memory, Trell,” Halde said, “but we must still discover what we can tonight. Your presence could be considered inconvenient.”

This was an academy for mages. Trell was an interloper here. “I can leave—”

“You will. Once you can stand.” Halde’s faint trace of a smile mirrored Kara’s. “First, we must discover where you came from. Otherwise, where will we send you?”

“Of course. If there is anything I can do to repay you, you have but to name it.”

“All we ask is you help us find your home. I know what Kara has told me, and I know you were attacked. Who attacked you, and why?”

Trell felt a compulsion to answer, a desire to speak that was not wholly his own. Magic. It was an odd feeling, a weight on his shoulders as heavy as a damp tarp, but the memories simply wouldn’t come. It seemed even magic could not recall his past.

“I’m sorry, respected elder. What memories I have all blur together. Landra said I must have fallen into the Layn, and I do remember water, but I remember little else.”

Halde crossed his arms and raised one hand to his chin, stroking his short black beard. “There was a recent skirmish at the Layn River ... a dust up of sorts between an invading force of Tellvan soldiers and the Mynt garrison at Layn Keep.”

Trell saw Kara grimace out of the corner of his eye. She hadn’t known. He wondered how far they were from Layn Keep.

“The Leader of Armies arrived almost a week ago with a large force of soldiers. Had he not done so, the Tellvan would have crushed Layn Keep. His cavalry and footmen routed the Tellvan, and many remained days after to repair the fortress.”

“You think I was involved in that battle.” Trell leaned forward and tried to picture it, him fighting Tellvan or Mynt soldiers. “You think that’s how I was injured.”

Both provinces were familiar to him, Mynt’s great mountains and Tellvan’s endless sands, and it seemed impossible that he could remember that while not remembering so much else. He forced his thoughts to the Layn river, to the fortress built on its bank.

New images surfaced in Trell’s mind: a row of catapults, lines of soldiers in brown armor, and a thick stone bridge. The Layn flowed under it, and its stones were slick with blood and viscera. It felt real, and Trell knew he had pulled yet another memory from the void.

“You’re right. I can almost see the bridge.” Trell remembered the ring of metal on metal, the shouts of soldiers fighting and dying. “The man who led Mynt. This ‘Leader of Armies’. What is his name?”

“Prince Beren. He is known to you?”

“I’m not sure.” Another image surfaced in Trell’s mind, a soldier in golden armor. He had a deep scar down the right side of his face and short black hair.

“Prince Beren is scarred.” Trell knew he was right about this, and the certainty thrilled him. “On the right side of his face.”

Halde showed no reaction, but Trell did not miss it when Kara looked down. One palm splayed as her fingers pressed the bed.

“I understand,” Trell said. “You think I attacked Layn Keep with that Tellvan army.”

“We don’t know that,” Kara said.

“But it makes sense.” Trell looked past Halde, at the thin door, and wondered if he could get past the man if he needed to. “Yet if I’m your enemy, why heal my wounds?”

“You are
not
our enemy.” Kara gripped his hand, and his eyes leapt to hers. She stared at him and did not look away.

“Trell,” Halde said, “Solyr takes no part in the wars of the provinces. You have no enemies here. The color of your skin does not necessarily mean anything.”