The Reach Between Worlds (The Arclight Saga, Book 1) (18 page)

Stirring Up the Masses

Over the coming weeks, stories spread through Endra like wildfire. The south borough was the place to go for gossip and news; Leorin was always there, perched on his stool surrounded by curious listeners.

“Ay, I saw it. Power’s back on,” a thin man said to Leorin. “I heard that Helian girl sabotaged it.”

Leorin coughed hard into his hand and sipped some water. “Apologies, I’m not feeling well.” He rattled his coin tray. “Donations go a long way towards curing ailments.”

“I heard she took on three magisters without breakin’ a sweat. It’s about time someone dealt with those bastards on their level.”

“They say she’s a murderer,” Taro said.

“They say a lot of things,” the man replied. “Or maybe she’s just their Helian scapegoat.”

There were certain background noises in the lower city that Taro had become deaf to. The water dripping from the grates, the steam hissing through pipes, the continuous chatter of the crowds. It wasn’t until the people around Leorin went silent that he noticed any of it.

It didn’t take long for him to see the reason for their silence. Vexis had crept her way through the crowd and sat on the back of Leorin’s wagon. Her feet just reached to the ground, and she kicked the black slush with her tiptoes. She’d cleaned up since Taro had last seen her: the bruises on her face were gone, her straight blonde hair was tied back, and she even wore her artificer uniform.

Taro realized that the uniform was the reason for the silence, as none of these people could possibly have known who she was.

She patted Leorin on the shoulder. “I’m here for a story.”

Leorin gave an uncomfortable wince. “Vexis.”

Whispers erupted from the crowd, and Vexis hopped off the wagon ledge. “Have we met?” Vexis pulled her collar down a bit, exposing her magistry tattoos more clearly. “It’s these, isn’t it? If we’re patient, maybe we’ll have some company and I can show you what they do.”

“What do you want?” Leorin said.

“I already told you. A story.”

Leorin crossed his fingers. “And which would you like to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear one. I want to tell one.” She crossed her legs and sat onto a dry patch on the ground. “Once upon a time, there was a pretty artificer named Vexis. One day she uncovered a wicked plot by the Magisterium. When she threatened to expose them, they locked her away.

“But she was so cunning, she planned her escape months in advance. When she was out, she found an old storyteller and began telling his audience about uncovering a wicked plot." She stretched her arms over her head. “You get the idea. The Magisterium can’t be trusted.”

“You’re not going to find many in these parts that trusts them,” Leorin said.

“Yet they’re still in power. You’re like sheep being herded by wolves.” She gestured with her arms out wide. “Welcome to your slaughterhouse.”

“Nobody’s forced to stay down here,” Taro said.

When Vexis saw him, she grinned ear to ear. “That’s the beauty of their treachery. It’s the illusion of choice. They destroy the Arclight to force you down, and when you least expect it—” she closed her hands together, “—they’ll seal you in to rot.”

“Damaging the Arclight hurts them just as much as it hurts us,” Leorin said.

“Clearly you’ve never been inside the Magisterium. Trust me, the cold is a brisk winter’s evening to them.” Vexis sauntered from person to person, looking them directly in the eye. “When the time is right, they’ll cull you like animals.”

“The Sun King is a good man. I refuse to believe he would let what you say come to pass,” Leorin said.

Vexis pulled a silver pocket watch from her vest and checked the time. “I don’t expect you to believe me just yet. All I ask is that you keep your eyes and ears open. Soon the magisters will learn.”

“Learn what?” Taro asked.

“That there’s no rest for the wicked.”

There was shouting in the distance and four warders barreled through the crowds. Vexis crossed her arms, not seeming particularly worried. Behind them was a magister Taro had never met.

Vexis twiddled her fingers at him. “Magister Cidrin! Long time, no see.”

“You’re coming with me,” Cidrin said.

Vexis checked her pocket watch again and sighed. “Listen boys, I really don’t have time for this.”

Several people moved to stand between them and Vexis. Two of them were children.

“You’ve got no place here,” one of the adults said to Cidrin.

Cidrin’s stone face didn’t waiver. Taro wanted to beg them to move. This may have been their first time actually seeing a magister in the flesh. Perhaps they’d heard stories about them, but none could understand how outmatched they were. A magister of Cidrin’s caliber was a human weapon and could kill every man, woman, and child there.

“I don’t wish to hurt any of you,” he said, “but if you don’t stand aside then you give me no choice.”

Vexis stayed put, as did most of the people between her and Cidrin’s entourage.

Cidrin tilted his hands and everyone in front of him was struck with an unseen force. Taro felt like he’d just had a boulder drop onto his back and collapsed onto the stone pavement. Children cried and the adults cursed and tried to get to their feet, only for Cidrin to force them back down.

Cidrin’s templar was like a vice grip, but Vexis was unaffected. She casually strolled towards him. “Listen Cid. Can I call you Cid?” She motioned towards the people. “I think they get the point.”

“They can join you in the Blocks,” Cidrin said.

Vexis pointed to a little girl. “You’re going to stick her in a cell?”

“If you come willingly I’ll rethink it.”

Taro tilted his head and focused on keeping his lungs going.

Vexis cracked her knuckles and solid shadows coalesced at her feet like pools of oil. When she pointed her hand, the shadow wrapped around Cidrin like a snake. She pulled him into the air and smashed him into his warder entourage.

Cidrin’s control over the crowd disappeared when he struck the pavement. Vexis smashed Cidrin into the side of Leorin’s wagon, and it momentarily lifted onto its hind wheels. Finally, she slammed him into the slush and her shadows spread to his neck.

“Thank you,” she said wickedly.

The shadows crept closer to Cidrin’s mouth. “For what?”

Vexis pressed her foot to his chest. “For showing them your true colors.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then do it.”

“No. Today, you live.” Vexis addressed the few people left watching. “For those of you that don’t know, magistry is the power in the written word, and templary is channeled through the hands. Do you know what that means?”

A look of horror swept across Cidrin’s eyes and a series of loud cracks rang through the air intermixed with screaming. When the shadows slithered off him, his hands were limp. Vexis broke every bone from the wrist down.

She pecked him on the cheek as he sobbed. “It’s okay, Cid. Let it all out.”

By the time more magisters arrived, Vexis was long gone. Taro wasn’t sure he understood her. At times she seemed to have a defined goal, and other times she seemed to just delight in causing chaos.

Something didn’t sit right with him. There was more to this than a jailbreak. More to this than fixing the Arclight. Vexis was up to something, and Taro was going to find out what it was.

Into the Tombs

The weeks passed without any sightings of Vexis. Rumors abound of how she’d valiantly defended a group of kids from a vicious magister, each time he heard the story her heroism was more pronounced.

While the rumors were a curiosity, Vexis being at large had little impact on Taro’s day-to-day life. In some ways he was freer than ever. As a full artificer, he could go practically anywhere in the Magisterium and browse any book in the Librarium. Work at the foundry had even become bearable. The overseer had long moved him from the furnace to hauling freight. It was exhausting work, but at least kept him in the cool open air.

Returning Moira’s book was a peace offering he was happy to give. Now that he had artificer-level access to books, including past records, he intended to use it to find out more about Vexis.

The Librarium was always busy. Pages rustled and pens scribbled over hushed whispers. Moira sat on her perch, enclosed by a circular desk. It was piled high with books, ledgers, and labels.

He approached Moira’s desk and stood with his head low and his hands at his side, waiting for her to acknowledge him. She continued to scratch in her ledger, and when she presumably got to the end of a sentence, placed her pen in an inkwell.

“Yes?” She tilted her glasses and stared down at him. “Ah, Taro. Long time no see.”

“Sorry to bother you.” He placed
The Witch of the Well
onto the desktop.

Moira turned it to face her, and leafed through the pages.

“It’s just as you gave it to me,” Taro said.

“Yes, I’m sure Mr. Leek takes excellent care of his merchandise.” That stung, but Taro knew he deserved far worse than a biting comment. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

Moira went back to writing. It seemed to take her a few moments before she realized Taro was still there. “Is there something else?”

“I need some help tracking down some information.”

“Fiction or non-fiction?”

“Historical ledgers on past artificers.”

She raised a thin, curling eyebrow. Taro expected her to ask ‘why’ and was doing his best to concoct some excuse about a historical assignment, but Moira didn’t seem to care.

“I’m afraid those are held in the Tombs.”

“The Tombs?”

“Underground storage,” she clarified. “First-year artificers are not permitted there alone.”

“Could you come with me, then?”

Moira seemed surprised by the request, as if no one had ever asked her such an audacious thing.

She stood and opened the door to her circular desk. “Follow me.” She led him to a deep staircase locked off with a wrought iron gate, and unlocked it with a long skeleton key.

The staircase lead into complete darkness. On the wall beside the stairs were iron hooks with hanging brass lanterns. The lamps had no oil or wicks, only a scribbled enchant running along the oblong side and up the tea-cup handle.

The Tombs went on for miles. They passed through endless corridors with more books than Taro had ever seen in his life. More books than he could read in a thousand years, from every century and on every subject. Finally, they reached their destination.

“Registrar records.” Moira held her lantern up to a cast iron door. Inside were folders stuffed with parchment. “Which records are you specifically interested in?”

“Two years ago. A girl named Vexis.”

Moira almost dropped her lamp. Her frown dipped lower, but she did not speak. The records were arranged the year they were added. Moira leafed through the section until she found one marked Trial 3118 N.E. 14 pass, 121 fail.

Each of the sixty-three recruits of that year had their own file. It listed their name, known family, marks from their instructors, and how they’d done in their trial. They were in alphabetical order, and he passed Ven, Suri, and many others before he got to Vexis Andurin.

Her file was fairly ordinary, noted her as a ‘bright’ Helian recruit with high marks in templary and alchemy. She too had gotten a gold aurom, and passed her first trial that same year.

Now, staring at the paper, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d hoped to find.

“Can I check this out?” Taro said.

“Only a commissioned magister may check a book out from the Tombs.”

Taro placed the ledger back into place. As they tracked back through the pitch black Tombs, Moira seemed rather unsettled.

“Listen,” Taro said, “I know I shouldn’t have done what I did, but—"

“It’s isn’t that.” She stopped. “I make it a point to never question an information requests. But is the second time I’ve been asked to look up records on another student. And the last person to ask me to do so was the girl you just tried to look up.”

“Vexis asked you to look up information on another student?”

Moira nodded. “Two years ago, almost to the day.”

“You met her back then. Did she seem off?”

Moira’s frown sank lower. “No. She was bubbly, energetic little one. Annoyingly so. She wanted information on her sister.”

“Sister?” Taro’s voice echoed through the Tombs.

“An artificer named Kadia. She trialed four years ago. What happened to her was a shame.”

“Did she die?”

“No. She’s very much alive... or at least, what’s left of her. As I understand it, she simply stopped showing up for classes. We received a note from her doctor saying she’d wouldn’t be renewing her term.”

“A doctor?”

“Yes, one of the attending physicians at the hospital on Varin Road.” She rubbed her chin. “Dr. Halric was his name.”

The name sent a shiver down Taro’s body. He didn’t say a word.

A spec of light shined from the end of the corridor. The stairs were in sight, and Taro hurried towards them, anxious to get out of the stuffy crypt.

Taro lowered his voice and tried to look as humble as possible. “Thank you for your help.”

The records had brought up more questions than answers, but one thing was clear: Taro had to find Kadia Andurin.