Page 15 of Iron & Embers (The Ashes of Thezmarr #1)

CHAPTER 15

Torj

‘The phenomenon of magical transference, in which the effects of a curse are passed from one individual to another, remains one of the most enigmatic and poorly understood aspects of the arcane arts’

– Magical Transference

T HERE WAS SOMETHING wrong with his scars. A strange vibration plagued the marred flesh there, as though his proximity to their maker created a constant echo of the power that had once hit that very point.

‘Are you alright?’ Cal asked, motioning to where Torj had been absentmindedly rubbing the old wound.

Torj looked down, gritting his teeth against the strange sensation. ‘It’s been bothering me lately.’

‘After all this time?’ Cal frowned. ‘You should talk to Farissa. Maybe she can give you something.’

Torj’s eyes returned to Wren, who stood with Kipp a few feet away. The pair were talking in hushed voices while Farissa sat beneath the mast with a book in hand, her gaze out to sea.

She looked up when Torj approached and shifted, making room for him. With a nod of thanks, he sat down beside her.

‘I imagine you heard everything between Elwren and me yesterday?’ she said.

‘Occupational hazard.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘It was nothing I didn’t already know,’ he replied. ‘For what it’s worth...I think you did the right thing.’

‘I’m glad someone does.’ Farissa closed her book, her attention drifting to Wren and Kipp. ‘Audra wanted her at Drevenor the moment the war ended.’

That didn’t surprise Torj. ‘Audra has always had her own agendas.’

‘True.’ Farissa glanced at him. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

For a moment, he felt ridiculous. The scars were just that – scars. Ones that were five years old, completely healed. And yet...

‘Do you know anything about magical injuries?’ he heard himself ask.

Farissa looked alarmed. ‘Who’s hurt?’

‘No one,’ he replied, trying to keep his voice steady. ‘Not recently, anyway.’

Reluctantly, Torj turned to face her, ensuring that his back was to Wren and the others as he reached for the buttons of his shirt. He undid the first three, revealing the network of scars that had ruined the ink across his chest.

In the aftermath of the battle, it had been Farissa herself who had tended to the burn-like wound, treating it with an array of salves and tinctures. He barely remembered sitting in the makeshift infirmary, dazed from the fight, in a state of shock from the tether that had temporarily connected him to the beautiful lightning wielder.

‘They’ve been troubling me,’ he told the Master Alchemist now. ‘They feel...alive. Sometimes it’s like I can feel it happening all over again. Like I’ve got... her storm magic beneath my skin.’

Farissa moved closer, peering at his chest, her brow furrowed as she studied each fork of scarred tissue. ‘How long has it been like this? Since Elwren channelled her power through you?’

‘Yes – no.’ Torj fumbled over the words. ‘It blazed like fire at the time. When the battle was done, the scars were there, but it wasn’t like this.’

‘So the sensation is more recent?’

‘At first they were like any other scar, but...on and off over the years, I’ve felt surges through them. I thought it was in my head – phantom sensations, perhaps trauma from the war...’

It was the first time he’d admitted it aloud, and it pained him to do so. He often woke in a sweat having dreamed about what might have awaited him on the other side of that dark vortex of shadow. He had been lucky to survive that day, lucky that Wren had saved him.

He cleared his throat. ‘Over the last few days, it’s drastically worse.’

Farissa tore her gaze away from the scars. ‘Magical injuries can be complicated.’

Torj huffed a humourless laugh. ‘No shit.’

‘They can have harsh side effects that don’t present until long after the initial wound has healed,’ Farissa told him. ‘It could contain an unintended curse. It could have absorbed magic from whatever shadow world the portal opened from...Although you’re a Warsword, your body wasn’t built to hold magic like this – magic specific to the ruling bloodlines of the midrealms. That’s why it’s passed down the family lines in such a way. It’s possible that you were in shock, but now your body is breaking down after containing so much raw power.’

Torj raked his fingers through his hair. ‘Great.’

‘What did it feel like at the time?’ she prompted. ‘When it first happened?’

‘Power,’ Torj said, finding his voice suddenly hoarse. ‘Power incarnate.’

Farissa nodded, as though this confirmed something for her. ‘There are several older texts on magical injuries that might be able to shed more light on the matter. We’re going to the perfect place...Drevenor should have what you’re looking for.’

Torj nodded, rising to his feet.

‘Audra will want to know about this,’ Farissa warned.

Torj braced himself against the harsh reality of her words, already coming to regret sharing his troubles. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘But you won’t say anything to Wren?’ He didn’t need the Poisoner knowing his business – or blaming herself.

‘No,’ Farissa replied. ‘But you should.’