Page 62 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 62- SHADAE

C ouldn’t they have designed better outfits for this weather?

I twisted my neck, trying to separate my skin from my collar. The jacket was a light material and cropped, but the under shirt, which was white, and embellished with gold buttons, stuck to my body, as did my dark red pants.

All around, the festival was in full swing. People passed by. Their eyes were bright with wonder as they gazed at the stalls, the games, the show. They were laughing, revelling in the atmosphere, strolling past in loose crimson pants, airy golden skirts, and short amber vests.

I felt a tug on my thigh.

I looked down, a young child, no older than six had his small fingers gripped in the folds of my pants. His wide brown eyes stared up at me, his curly brown locks falling in front of them slightly.

I immediately raised my head and looked around, trying to see where the child had come from, failing to see anyone who appeared as if they had just lost one.

I moved my leg, trying to shake myself from the child’s clutches, but he only clung on more stubbornly.

“Go,” I whispered. “Go back.”

“My mama says you can help,” he said blankly.

“Your mama is wrong, go back to her,” I insisted, glancing around nervously.

“Mama is sick,” he insisted.

So? I’m not a healer? Do I look like one?

“Then you should find her a healer,” I replied.

“No!” The child screeched so loudly, that the people strolling past overheard, and looked in our direction.

“Is that a tracker?”

“What’s she doing with that boy?”

I swallowed anxiously and looked back at the child. “I’m not a doctor alright? I can’t help your mama. I’m sorry.”

The child shook his head so viciously he was probably hurting his own neck. Tears started to pool in his eyes.

I crouched. The child’s hand didn’t move. “What’s wrong with your mama?” I asked.

This child clearly wasn’t going to leave, better to amuse him and avoid another outburst.

“Mama has a baby.”

Ha. You’re right. That is terrible.

“What’s wrong with that?” I said, trying to soothe him.

“Mama has a bad baby.”

I understood then. The baby was a sorcerer.

Was it possible for a baby to exhibit signs of sorcery? That early? The mother probably thought I could take her baby away and get rid of it.

Its own mother.

Did she really expect a baby to be drained?

This boy would be better off running away from home. What would happen if he showed signs of possessing certain abilities in a few years? How long did he have before he could no longer walk these streets freely? Before his own mother turned him in?

But what could I do? Even if I saved the baby from its fate before another tracker heard about this, I couldn’t take care of a child.

Still, could I really let a baby be apprehended?

“Where’s your mother?”

The boy began hauling me by the arm, I followed him, street after street. Flags were stretched, banners decorated with intricate symbols, the dark red ink shining bright against gold in honour of the celebration. Bunting hung over us, it stretched from window to window, from post to pillar. Most people were too busy immersing themselves in the festivities to afford us a second glance.

We reached a quieter road. The boy let go of my arm instantly. He ran up ahead and around a corner.

I followed him, slowly.

“Thank you,” I could just about make out a voice.

A man placed a lunar coin into the little boy’s palm. The child beamed widely then ran off.

You little shit! Mama needs help. She certainly does if she has a devious little child like you! Ugh.

The man was leaning against a wall, his side facing me. A dark crimson cloak, almost brown, and tattered, covered him.

“I knew that would work.”

Elias removed his hood, turning towards me. He looked neither happy nor delighted about the fact it had.

I sighed, looking down.

“What were you going to do?” he asked me.

“About what?” I pretended to play ignorant.

Elias snorted. “I told that boy exactly what to say. He’s run errands for me before, I know for a fact he would have recited every single word correctly.”

“I didn’t really hear much of what he said, because of the crowds and…”

I looked off to the side, remembering Elias’ previous commands not to lie to him.

Still, if it meant surviving, I would lie, many times.

The power of a well told lie was like birdsong. Deceitful in its decorations. A threat passing as a pleasing melody. I was surrounded by such chirping here. I could learn to mimic the warbling.

I had to.

“You would have tried to save the baby. Wouldn’t you?” Elias said.

“No,” I replied quickly, realising in that instant, I had just revealed, that I had in fact, heard what the boy had said.

Elias raised an eyebrow.

“I would have brought it back,” I insisted.

“Even I wouldn’t have brought a fucking baby back.”

Well, aren’t you a hero.

“What would you have done? Waited till he was four or five and then took him?” I met his eyes.

He didn’t respond.

It was so easy for him and all the others to overlook that place, those centres, to convince themselves as they fell into sleep it was for the greater good. But they didn’t see the children crying and begging for it to stop when they were drained, or the parents being pulled apart from them as they were ripped away from their homes, the only evidence they were ever there an unused bed, a bowl in the cupboard never touched. Though some families got rid of those. Some burnt the wood and the sheets, smashed the ceramic into pieces.

“It’s your job, not mine after all,” Elias muttered.

“You should be thankful about that.” Normally, I would have schooled my tongue around him, but this trick, and his unbothered attitude about the apprehension of small children loosened it easily.

“Oh, I am,” he huffed.

“Why couldn’t you have told the child to say it was you who sent him?” I demanded.

“Because I couldn’t risk any unwanted parties overhearing and following you…Do you want to be killed on one of these back streets?”

As if you care. Being a tracker dooms me to die in Vasara, so the likelihood of dying on one of these streets is already high, isn’t it?

I had received a message this morning, that ‘His Honourable Lord Elias’ had requested my presence at the festival. The presence of trackers wasn’t unusual at such events, they were designed to deter any sorcerers from potentially causing trouble, but I had not initially been scheduled to attend. I had been looking forward to the quiet.

Lord Elias was dressed the complete opposite to how you would expect someone of his stature to be. While all the other nobles would later undoubtedly appear in some of their most extravagant attire, underneath Lord Elias’ dark crimson cloak was a plain white tunic, laced with a ruby coloured thread near the top of his chest, forming a loose collar around his neck.

Like that. How hard would it be to design a collar like that?

Lord Elias caught my eye, glaring at his collar with jealousy. He frowned, clearly baffled by my intense stare.

He looked down at his collar and shirt, finding nothing there of interest, then glanced at me again.

“You need to change.”

“Why?”

Elias stood forwards and revealed that he was in fact, standing in front of a small wooden door. He opened it. Behind it was some kind of abandoned shop, which appeared to once possess jewels, the majority of which had been stolen.

“In there, there’s a bundle on the floor.” He nodded inside.

“But…where do I leave these?” I gestured to the clothes I was wearing.

“Leave them there, we’ll come back after.”

We?

I went inside the door, having to walk closely to Elias’ outstretched arm and chest as I did.

He was so tall and broad it was like walking past a fortress.

Inside on the floor was a long linen dress, amber in colour, and a cloak.

A cloak? Just when I thought I’d finally be able to breathe today. I have to wear this. This is even worse.

But, I decided, being dressed in this outfit was still far better than having to deal with a sorcerer fresh from the womb.

Elias closed the door behind him. I hurriedly got dressed. It had been a long time since I’d worn a dress, so the sensation felt foreign, the air slipping between my shins strange. The dress was just as plain and simple as Elias’ shirt, with similar lacing near the top, only in white, and the cloak was a slightly darker shade of amber than the dress was.

Just before my fingers touched the handle, a voice outside reached my ears.

“My Lord! What are you doing here -ey? The festival’s that way!”

“I’m coming later,” Elias replied to the unexpected guests.

“Ahhh, with His Majesty?”

“That’s right.” Elias sounded slightly tense, but perhaps that was because I knew the circumstances. In reality the tone of his voice probably sounded friendly and jovial.

“Is it true, My Lord? That you’ve been appointed again!” The two voices of these people sounded like those of young, and excitable men, perhaps even adolescents.

“I hope it is!” the second one exclaimed. “My Lord, they say there was never another General like you! They say you were the best! I hope I’ll get to serve under you one day.”

Now there could be no mistaking the slight twang in Elias’ voice when he replied, “I hope so too.”

“So, it is true!” the first one said, sounding as if he was bouncing on his feet. “I can’t wait to tell the others!”

“Yeah, they’ll be delighted! Some of them served under you, you know? They’ll be so pleased to hear—"

“Wasn’t it Zarlon?”

“Yeah him! Do you remember him, My Lord, oh and there was Yvina too!”

Elias cleared his throat. “I remember them.”

“You do! Yvina had a thing for you, you know—"

“Oi, don’t say that to him!”

I let out a groan so loud I was surprised nobody overheard.

Yvina avoided misery. I hope she’s happily married to someone else now…

“Well, she did! She still does …probably, even after everything!”

No. There’s no hope for the woman.

The man tried to correct himself, presumably after alluding to ‘everything.’

“I mean…urrr…it’s just that—"

Elias interrupted their frantic warbling. “Go and tell them, please, I’d be happy to see them later at the festival.”

“Really? We will, My Lord, we’ll go now!”

The sounds of their footsteps scurrying off became quieter, as did their excited chatter.

I had only ever come across people speaking of Elias with disdain, sometimes respect, but I hadn’t realised the Lord had been, and was also loved.

Gods knew why. Had they actually met him?

I opened the door. Elias turned around, looking me up and down.

“Let your hair down,” he said immediately.

It’s not enough that you have to cover me in this cloak, now you want my hair covering my neck too? Do you want me to die from heat sickness?

He did in fact, probably wish for it to some degree.

I reached up and did as he asked, not bothering to verbalise my arguments once again.

“Good,” he said sternly.

He began walking down the alleyway he had been leaning in. He put his hood up. I did the same.

“We’re meeting someone,” he finally told me.

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet.”

I frowned and looked at him. The fabric of our hoods slightly covered our face, but he could still sense my mood.

“The King requested this meeting. He asked me to bring you along. He wants us to meet this person.”

I decided it was best not to say anymore after that.

“Are you…going to the festival?” I asked.

“Why? Did you want to go back?”

I snorted. “Gods, no.”

I could see the corner of Elias’ lips twitch up slightly into a smile, for a brief moment. Very brief.

“Why?”

Because it’s not a festival I can enjoy, is it? Just one I have to stand around for, waiting and hoping no sorcerers expose themselves, so that I won’t have to attack, apprehend, or kill them.

“I don’t like crowds,” I replied. That was true at least.

“Mmmm,” was all I received in response. A few seconds passed before he added, “We may not have the time."

“Yvina will be disappointed,” I said flatly.

My eyes widened at my own comment, and I hastily looked away, hiding my face under my hood further.

But Lord Elias didn’t scold me, or remind me of his title, or my place, he simply said, “It’s better she doesn’t see me.”

Well, on one thing we can agree at least.

“Here.” Elias threw a pouch at me, which I only just managed to catch, blinking several times as I did.

I looked down at it, feeling its hefty weight in my palm.

“That’s the money you gave those guards. Don’t give it away anymore."

He actually…got my money back? That’s…

Well, I’ll be able to afford to eat more but…those guards…they’re going to truly hate me now.

After some time walking in silence, we reached a modest, and comfortably sized house at the edge of the city centre. Elias knocked on the door, but it opened of its own accord. He turned back to look at me, then beckoned me to follow him inside.

“Come up,” a muffled voice from somewhere atop a wooden staircase called out.

Elias went in first. I trailed behind him, up the stairs. Eventually we reached the source, the room the voice had come from, and stepped inside.

I recognised him instantly.

Elias, however, didn’t seem to know who he was speaking to. He withdrew his hood and looked at the man, but when he noticed I had frozen, he turned in my direction.

The man in front of us was staring at me as well. He was middle aged, bald, his tanned skin lined with age. His eyes were red, the same colour as Elias’, only much darker compared to Elias’ more ruby coloured ones.

Elias’ eyes shifted between us.

“You know her?” he asked the man.

The man’s eyes glimmered as he stood and came towards me. He was slightly shorter than I was, but still, it was hard not to be intimidated by his presence.

“Of course, My Lord. I remember each and every tracker I mark.”

It would be difficult to forget the face that branded me with the Curse. The Curse of Servitude, one of the fifteen grand curses, he had explained to me.

And one of the most difficult to break.

Breaking it was only possible through three means.

One, through death, as all curses were. Not ideal.

Two, the constant renewal of healing magic being streamed into your blood on a regular basis. Essentially impossible since Darean Healers were virtually non-existent.

And then there was the third option, cutting it out of your skin, or cutting the limb it was attached to off.

Only there was no guarantee it would work. Often the Curse of Servitude recognised the intention of its removal and immediately spread its poison through your veins as a consequence of disobedience.

There were many trackers who had tried the third option and failed, many times.

This Curser hadn’t explained the pain though.

The pain the branding of the mark caused was forever etched into my memory, and unfortunately, this man’s face now was as well.

I looked down and away from the man, unable to maintain eye contact.

“She screamed a lot, this one.”

I immediately locked eyes with him again. He seemed pleased about that.

“But she didn’t pass out. That’s quite rare in fact.”

Elias was stunned speechless.

That’s right Lord, be thankful my job isn’t yours.

“My name is Narvo. The King has told me you have some inquiries regarding a marked corpse. I am at your service, Sir.” Narvo bowed to Elias.

So, Elias must have told him about that body, Claus’ body.

I wondered if he had told him about my bloodied overnight torture as well.

Or what was it he called it? My ‘midnight stroll.’

Elias nodded. He withdrew a sheet of paper, which had some drawings upon it, and gave it to Narvo. Narvo raised his eyebrows immediately, looking at Elias as if he had handed something to him mistakenly.

“You know these marks?” Elias asked.

“The marks of possession. The marks of necromancy,” Narvo explained.

I had told Elias all of this already. Didn’t he believe me?

“That’s what she said,” Elias looked at me.

“Then your tracker is knowledgeable—"

“She’s not my…” Elias rolled his eyes, seeing no point in finishing that sentence.

Gods. Is that what they’ll call me now? The Lord’s tracker? Like I’m his pet?

Clearly the idea revolted him as much as it did me.

That’s two things we’ve been able to agree on today. Ha. Unusual.

“Of course, My Lord, apologies. But the tracker is correct. There is no doubt.”

Elias snatched the piece of paper from the man’s hands and walked over to Narvo’s desk. He took out a quill dipped in ink and passed them both to me.

“Draw what you saw,” he instructed me.

I stared at the paper as if it were poisonous. “I can’t…draw that thing.”

“Try,” Elias looked at me insistently, but also apologetically. His face tightened uncomfortably at his own request.

My hand shook slightly as I took the paper and sat down at the desk, trying my best to depict what I had seen.

Elias’ breath hitched as he watched the lines I drew merge together.

“It looks much the same as what they described,” Narvo said thoughtfully.

I had already told Elias this too. What was the meeting? A design to make sure everything I said hadn’t been a fabrication?

“Could it be the same one?” Elias looked at Narvo with apprehension.

“I am not sure. We have no way of comparing, since the bodies from the past, should they have possessed marks, are long since gone.”

I remained seated, absorbed in the horror of my own drawing. It was so hauntingly disgusting to look at. I was surprised I’d been able to depict it at all.

“And the marks on the King’s parents?” Elias said.

The man hummed. “They were not the same as these.”

“The girl? Did you examine her?”

Elias must have been talking about the candidate. The announcement the King had made about both his parents and the attack had spread throughout the trackers like a wild flame.

“I did, but there were no marks.” Narvo shook his head.

I could, perhaps should, tell them about the talisman.

But the thought of dying in a bloody pool was sobering enough.

Elias sighed loudly. I turned in my chair to face them both.

“Is there a way to navigate, to track the person who is leaving these marks behind, and trace their energy?” Elias inquired.

Narvo shrugged. “Possibly but wouldn’t your…” He stopped and corrected himself. “Wouldn’t the Navigator here know more about that.”

“You’re a Curse user, so your knowledge is also helpful.”

A Curse user, or a Curser, a class four Acciperean, and he here was, working for the King.

Narvo thought on the question for a few moments. “Have you tried?”

So, Elias hadn’t told the King, otherwise Narvo would have already been informed, and known the answer to that question.

I couldn’t help but look up at Elias, he didn’t meet my gaze, but the man noticed.

“You have tried,” he murmured, fascinated. “What happened?” he asked.

Elias looked at me warily. If I didn’t know my own situation better, I’d assume he was asking me for permission to tell Narvo.

I found myself nodding slightly.

Elias spoke, only then. “The Navigator became unwell. She was bleeding and confused.”

“Bleeding?” Narvo sounded surprised.

I didn’t know whether that question was addressed to me or Elias, so I remained silent.

Elias confirmed. “Yes, and it seemed to enter her dreams as well.”

“Impossible,” Narvo whispered, he sounded equally appalled and enthralled by the discovery.

“Clearly not,” Elias muttered.

“There could be more than one of them,” Narvo posed.

“It’s the same person,” I blurted out.

“How are you so sure?” Narvo asked me.

Because the talisman clearly belonged to a Necromancer, and the person walking my dreams demanded I return it and called it something of theirs, and during that conversation, well, more like interrogation, I started bleeding and couldn’t move.

Which reminded me of the fact I had omitted that detail before.

“I couldn’t move either, in the dream. I was bleeding, and I was dreaming all at once, and the figure alluded to the fact it was the Necromancer who had possessed the corpse we found.”

“This is…concerning,” was all Narvo could say.

“Concerning?” Elias asked disapprovingly, clearly implying the word was not sufficient to describe the situation.

Narvo averted his eyes.

“Do you know of a way we can identify these marks on a person, search for them?” Elias asked.

Narvo frowned. “I will think of a way. I will mull it over, My Lord.”

“Do it fast,” Elias instructed.

It was only then that still at seat level, I looked at the man’s hands and arms.

There was no Cursed mark on his skin.

He saw me watching him, saw where I was looking.

“Yes,” he answered my silent question. “I do this willingly.”

Why? How can you live with yourself?

I just stared at him.

He asked. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five,” I answered in a quiet voice.

“Just as old as I was, at the start.”

He looked over my face then said, “You think me evil, don’t you?”

“I—"

“No, no, don’t answer that. The Lord is here, you cannot speak your mind, I know.”

“Sir—" Elias interrupted him.

“Apologies, My Lord. It’s only that these young ones don’t know. They haven’t seen what you and I have seen.”

Young ones? I’m hardly any younger than the Lord here.

With a pause of silence in the room, Narvo continued, “Yes, I am a sorcerer, but the things I saw them do, the devastation I saw them unleash, I could not stand by and watch. I would prefer if such measures were not necessary.” He pointed at my wrist, “But alas, the sorcerers grew entitled and greedy, grew unaware of their actions and their wrongs.”

“They were not my wrongs,” I said sorrowfully, pitifully. My voice sounded pathetic at that moment, like a desperate child’s begging for love.

“But who’s to say they won’t be? You? Who can truly predict where their life will lead, what doors their pain will open? The past is written so we can learn from it.”

Written by who? If the killers have the pen, the legends will always praise the murderers.

I did not say this aloud. Elias was standing behind me after all. Perhaps he’d even written some of that past down.

“It is better this way,” Narvo nodded.

Mass suffering inflicted on all sorcerers? A deep-rooted pain that you yourself have cast upon us? How na?ve are you to think such a pain will not manifest into something far worse with time?

My voice changed then, gritty with anger and disgust. “Better to make sure pain is all we know? That we can only hope for a bit of relief and nothing more?”

Elias spun his head towards me, but the man replied before he could say anything. “No. It would be better if you ceased to exist, but such a thing is not possible.”

“Then you too, would cease to exist.”

The man shrugged slightly, unbothered. “I only live to atone for the sins of my brothers and sisters, those I once called my friends. If I could die with all sorcerers. knowing this was no longer necessary, I would gladly tie a noose around my own neck.”

What? What is wrong with you?

He saw my reaction. “You think me mad.”

Was he the mad one, or was I? To move and breath and know each step would be saturated with suffering anyway, in a world where I was condemned for breathing, punished for pursuing life. How absurd. What an infinitely formidable and unbreakable absurdity.

But Elias. Didn’t he too possess it? Didn’t everyone who chose to live? The humans spent so much time dwelling upon our abilities, they forgot true power lay elsewhere. The power of persistence in the face of pain. The power of fingers clawing deep on the very edge, their muscles summoning a strength never known before. They were so afraid of us, of sorcery wiping them out, that they didn’t see it. Their fear was stronger than their ability to see this shared truth weaving between us. This shared gift.

Narvo was wrong.

No sorcerer could take that gift from a human.

And no human could take it from a sorcerer, with a shackle.

Or a curse.

You’re not ridiculous to want death, but we are, to choose life, in this world.

But I would rather be ridiculous, than be nothing.

If I’m to die, I’ll die for a dream, foolish I know that may be. I’ll take these chains to the grave. Better to try, and be taken early, than slip away life’s prisoner. I’d rather go yanking at the steel, than forget how to feel alive.

You’re not mad Narvo. You’re a shell.

“That’s enough, we’re leaving,” Elias cut in.

“Come back anytime, My Lord, and feel free to bring the Navigator.”

“Pppfff,” I let loose from my lips.

Elias didn’t thank Narvo and just left the room, expecting me to follow. I hurried to follow but was stopped by Narvo's voice.

“Can’t you sense it on him?” he asked.

I turned around, at the doorway now.

“He reeks of it.”

I was already sure Narvo was out of his mind, and this only seemed proof of that.

“What are you talking about?” I asked in a low voice.

Elias’ footsteps stopped as soon as he realised I wasn’t behind him.

Narvo shook his head and grinned. “Never mind girl, never mind.”

Never mind? You can’t just turn around and say something as ominous and foreboding as that and then drop your point halfway through?!

Elias’s voice called out from below. “Come.”

I looked at the man one last time and reluctantly, exited the room.

Elias and I traversed the streets back towards the centre of the city. On the way back, we stopped by the same store, and I changed back into my clothes. I handed the dress and cloak to him. He tossed it behind my shoulder onto the floor and shut the door behind me.

Once we reached the centre of the festivities, Elias spoke again. “Go back to work.”

“So, you’ll stay?” I gestured around me at the festival.

“What concern is it of yours?”

Do you have to be so abrasive about everything? I’m asking you a question, not pulling out your teeth.

Although, they’re starting to feel like one and the same thing.

Three guards from the Palace approached Elias. Their gold armour clunked with their heavy steps.

At least I don’t have to wear that.

Elias turned around, I stood behind him, blocked off from their view.

“My Lord!” They sounded distressed.

“What is it?” Elias sounded bored.

“My Lord, there’s been an emergency!”

Elias looked at the man as if he did not believe, for one moment, that there had been an emergency.

“What’s wrong?” he asked out of politeness, it felt.

“It’s one of the guards, My Lord! They’ve fallen dead!”

Oh no. What…a…shame. Truly heart wrenching.

“Why is that my concern?” Elias asked.

“My Lord, it was…it was a sorcerer!”

“That’s right, My Lord. His skin turned foul and there was a great cloud of smoke—"

“It wasn’t smoke! It was…it was—"

“It killed him, My Lord! He was clutching at his chest, and he had something in his hand! It was a necklace of some kind—"

Oh…. oh no.

“A necklace?” Elias stepped forwards.

But in that instant, I became visible to the guards. The one furthest to the left made eye contact with me.

“It was her!” He yelled. “She gave it to him! She killed him!”