Page 74 of Veil of Vasara (Fate of the Five #1)

CHAPTER 74 - SHADAE

L ord Elias hadn’t shown up.

It hadn’t been ‘later’ our trip to retrieve the sword had been planned. It had been days later.

Only now, Elias wasn’t coming.

Well, it didn’t matter to me. Not having to spend another moment around him was hardly distressing.

Still, I had received a note that I was to go to the forge and retrieve this blade for him, alone. I was in all honesty, stunned he had trusted me with the task.

Only then I had remembered, that if I decided to inform anyone about it, it would benefit me in no way whatsoever.

I scowled to myself at the thought, as the carriage he had left me rode along. There was nothing he could instruct me to do that I could disobey, and he’d even had the audacity to let me do a task alone. His confidence in his authority was so strong he didn’t even feel the need to accompany me anywhere.

Wonderful. It’s not as if I’ve been attacked numerous times for being a sorcerer whenever we’ve ventured anywhere together. Journeying alone is completely safe no doubt.

I tutted and frowned again. The fact Elias had needed to intervene during any of those instances irked me. I wanted to be able to defend myself.

Why get picky about my defences? If the Lord is willing to stop someone from punching me in the face, why should I get stubborn about that?

But still, I can do this. Perhaps he’s expecting me to return from this trip on my knees, humbly thanking him for his company, making grand declarations about how ill-advised I was to take it for granted.

So, I can’t defend myself, but I can…run away if I need to.

I grunted out loud, remembering the times Elias had been walking so fast I hadn’t been able to keep up with him.

Alright so what if I’m not fast at running? I’ll manage. I’ll figure it out. Don’t be expecting me to come grovelling, Lord who wishes not to be called Lord, Elias.

I sighed, it was hopeless. I was probably going to get mortally wounded on this trip.

All that talk about not doing anything if I said something you disagreed with…it’s as easy as sending me on an errand alone…you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger to kill me. Coward.

I stopped myself. Why was I getting so irritated about this?

Fundamentally, going in search of a sword alone was still more preferable to working in a large group of other trackers with the likes of Vykros. I hadn’t seen him for days which meant the next time I was working with the trackers again, we would definitely be scheduled to work together.

The carriage stopped outside a small, forested area. A place of such dense greenery was incredibly rare in Vasara. Then again, knowing this little piece of land belonged to Elias’ family, made it understandable.

I got out, glancing around at the paths. They were slightly gravelled, the sun forming incandescent spots along them as it pierced through the leaves of the trees.

An older woman shuffled towards me. “You’re Shadae?”

She was dressed in unassuming clothing, and covered with a dark red, slightly rose-coloured shawl.

“I am,” I replied. Since I was wearing my uniform, there was absolutely no purpose to denying my identity.

“He told me you’d be coming.”

I see, not entirely alone then. At least, not in the sense where I’m trusted to fulfil a task without betraying you, only still in the sense that if I were attacked, I’d end up a bloody heap amongst this gravel. It’s not as if this old woman can defend me, unless she was secretly a trained warrior in her youth.

“I’m Agnesa. I used to serve the Lord Gillion.”

I nodded, understanding that Lord Gillion must have been Elias’ father.

“I’ve kept the house ever since and the surrounding properties.” She smiled proudly to herself.

Looking after the house of a dead person…why?

The woman must have noticed the expression on my face and furrowed her brows slightly. “It’s an honour for me and Lady Erilia pays me well.”

Well, now it makes sense. If you offered me money to look after the house of a dead person nobody was occupying, I’d agree instantly.

I smiled and nodded. “Of course, I’m sure she is glad that you stayed.”

Agnesa, who was clearly both easily flattered and offended smiled again, the wrinkles around her eyes tightening, her brown hair tinged with grey bouncing in the bun she’d placed it in.

“It’s this way.” She walked forwards, slowly.

At least I can keep up with you.

No, in fact, you’re probably fitter than I am, I’ll probably still struggle.

“I’ve prepared a room.”

I side-eyed her, my eyebrows flattening.

“A room?”

She nodded without looking at me. “Two actually, I thought the Lord might be coming as well but—"

“I didn’t realise that…I’d be staying.”

The woman smiled at me gently, her small eyes closing over as she did. “Usually, the Lord likes to stay here for a while when he comes, so I just assumed.”

“Oh…well, if it’s alright with you, I’ll probably leave once I’ve finished here.”

The woman’s face fell.

Offended again? How come when people spit at my feet, and call me a slut, and a piece of trash, I have to remain impassive? But you get to be throwing around facial expressions like that because I don’t want to sleep under this roof?

“If you wish,” the woman replied in a clipped tone.

Maybe she’s lonely, but no, even if she were, she wouldn’t view a sorcerer’s lack of company as a loss, would she?

We approached a small wooden structure, the door of which was tall and sturdy. A dark thick keyhole made of metal lay at its centre. The woman took out a chunk of keys, and placed one in the lock, opening it.

Inside, dust floated through the air, catching colours under the sunlight. The wooden slats on the floor were coated in it. All around the tables, the walls and the shelves, were a variety of weapons, and papers strewn about.

As I examined my surroundings, the woman walked over to a box, and took out another key. Once I realised what she was doing, I joined her at her side, just in time for its lid to open.

The blade inside was the largest and longest I had ever seen. It reflected the sunlight so harshly it seemed to radiate. The handle was long, golden, and decorated in a winding vine like pattern. The engraving was scarlet and travelled along the sword's face.

And there it was…the mark, small, but branded into the blade clearly, the dark red standing out against the bright silver.

“How is it…this clean?” Was my first thought. “Have you—"

“No,” the woman anticipated my question. “This is the first time it’s been open in…years.”

“How many?”

“Since he died. Twelve.”

Twelve years. That would have made Elias surely no older than fifteen? Sixteen? when his father died, judging by his appearance.

“How is that possible?” I murmured to myself.

“Mmmmm,” the woman hummed. It instantly reminded me of Elias.

So that’s where he got his hmmming from.

I reached out to touch the blade, the mark more precisely, but my hand hovered above it cautiously. I frowned, disturbed.

“You’ve seen it before?” the woman asked curiously.

I didn’t know if this woman was someone deemed worthy of possessing the knowledge around Elias and I’s activities. I remained silent.

“I haven’t,” she told me. “I thought it was just an emblem of some kind. But…then Harlin told me about Elias’ request.”

“Most people would think that. It looks harmless,” I told her.

“Still, I should have known,” the woman murmured to herself bitterly.

“How could you have?” I turned to the left, looking at her.

She sighed, placing one hand in front of the other, and faced me.

She pulled up her sleeve.

The Curse of Servitude. The Tracker's mark.

My eyes widened and returned to her face instantly.

“You—"

She nodded. “For fifteen years.”

“Then…how did you…end up here?”

“A long time ago. I saved his son’s life. He thanked me by offering me this position.”

I looked from side to side, my mind was engulfed with endless thoughts.

“You…saved Lord Elias’s life?”

She nodded.

“Does he know that?”

She shook her head.

“Why?”

“It was a condition. I was not to tell him, at all costs.”

I furrowed my brow. Why thank someone by stripping them of their responsibilities as a tracker, actively acknowledging the weight of their deed if…

I realised.

“He didn’t want anyone to know why—"

She smiled tightly and raised her eyebrows, nodding yes again.

“Officially, I was Lord Gillion’s ‘Guardian’ they called it,” she explained. “It is permissible, in rare instances, for those nobles who wish to have a tracker follow them at all times, ready to defend them against any sorcerers who may attack.”

“I’ve never heard of that…of a Guardian,” I said quietly.

“That’s because they’re very rarely appointed. Most wouldn’t trust a tracker to live by their side.”

“What’s your class?” I asked her, changing the topic.

In response the woman closed her eyes. The soil beneath us trembled, parts spouted through the floorboards, rolling across the floor, scuttling.

Then, the shaking abated in an instant.

Darean. Class three.

Elementalist.

“Only earth?” I asked. I knew most Elementalists could control two elements at least.

“Fire and wood are a poor match,” she explained, gesturing to the wooden structures around us.

I huffed in agreement. I would prefer she didn’t burn us alive.

On second thought, staying here, and spending an evening speaking with this woman, didn't seem so torturous after all.

I reached for the sword’s hilt and grabbed it out of the box.

My arm fell to the ground instantly.

“Shit!” I swore under my breath.

The woman watched me amused. “You’re not used to handling weapons? How long have you been a tracker for?”

“Not long,” I muttered, wincing at the pain in my wrist. “I have handled weapons just not one this…heavy.”

With great effort, I placed it back in the box, and lifted it up, a sheen of sweat forming on my forehead.

I held it across my chest, manoeuvring it many times before it lay across my arms in a way that was at least, somewhat manageable.

The woman was frowning in my direction. “What class are you, dear?”

“Four. I’m a…” the box shifted in my arms again. “Navigator.”

The woman chuckled. “That makes sense. That boy is terrified of us. A Navigator seems harmless enough to him.”

I had already guessed the reasoning behind my selection. But I had thought Elias was suspicious of, untrusting of sorcerers.

Not, that he was terrified of them.

“But he…lived…with you?” I was still struggling under the weight of the blade, breathing heavily.

“Yes. But it wasn’t just the fact I saved his life he was unaware of. He never knew who I was. His father never told him.”

Did his father tell him anything?

But then I recalled what Elias had said. His father was unwell, erratic, his moods unstable.

But his father had saved, or at least, helped this sorcerer before me, given her a better life…

I mentally decided that such a man was worth having faith in, at least…for now.

“Why are you telling me?” I realised the weight of her revelation.

She sighed slowly and shrugged. “The Lord Gillion is dead now and, well, you won’t tell Lord Elias, will you?”

How do you know? I just might.

She scanned my face and chuckled without mirth, “He wouldn’t believe you, child.”

Well, that’s probably true. His faith in me is hardly absolute.

During my silence, Agnesa spoke again. “Elias loved him very much. He was devastated when he died.” She looked at the ground sadly. “And his mother…she hasn’t been the same since.”

“I…met her,” I said. “She…wasn’t too happy with my…presence.”

The woman laughed coldly. “Yes, that woman already bore a deep hatred for sorcerers while her husband lived, let alone after he died.”

I weighed the advantages and disadvantages of asking the next question.

I glanced down at the box. “How did…he die? What is it that he did…with this?”

The woman squinted, but then sighed, sitting down at the table a few steps away.

“He was stationed at a fortress on the outskirts of Vasara.” Her voice was both flat yet full of melancholy as she answered. “It was during a time where the activities of the rebel sorcerers were much more widespread and public. You must understand that he had done this thing many times before and he was not…entirely well.”

She gulped before continuing. “He was meant to defend them, the humans who were living behind that fortress…but in the end…he…with that” — she nodded in the direction of the box — “he slaughtered an endless number of people. In a fit of madness, they say. Some suggested a Telepath forced him to do it, but…there were no traces of sorcery or its energy anywhere on his body afterwards.”

She rubbed her hand over her mouth, clearly finding it difficult to discuss this subject. A pang of guilt pressed on my chest for asking.

“Then, he stabbed himself in the chest. They found him at the fortress, surrounded by all the bodies, pierced on his own blade, kneeling on the ground.”

Newly horrified by the object in my arm, I grimaced, and looked back down at it.

A newfound understanding of Elias’ words dawned upon me. He had believed, or at least, most had believed that his father’s nature simply leant itself to a breakdown which culminated in him taking his own life, and the lives of countless others.

Nobody suspected anything else, not after no traces of sorcery were found on his body.

But, if this sword did bear this mark, then it was possible that somehow, the influence of this figure, this person, whoever it was, had seeped into his mind, in a way which had not been detectable.

“His wife blamed it on sorcerers, of course.” Agnesa sighed. “According to her, it was the deeds he had witnessed sorcerers do, that drove him to insanity. Elias he…well, he was never one to go along with what others said but…what other explanation was there?”

She glanced at me hopefully. “You think it’s the sword, don’t you?”

I nodded slightly, it felt wrong to refuse her the confirmation, after she had just told me so much.

She smiled, her lips wobbling slightly. “I hope you’re right. I never believed it when…I never believed it.”

You don’t know what you’re saying. If we’re right, and this blade is cursed, if Gillion’s actions were the result of this…thing, then it’s far worse than you could imagine.

“I need to take it to him now,” I said.

Agnesa stood. Her body brushed against some papers on the table as she extended her hand out towards me, and patted my upper arm.

“Be careful, girl and…look after him, will you?”

What? I absolutely will not look after him! He’ll probably kill me the first chance he gets no matter what he says. It would be like looking after your own executioner, making sure their blade is sharp enough to slit your throat. I’m not completely foolish!

I opened my mouth to speak, but decided against it, she was looking at me so optimistically.

You’re a sorcerer and you’re asking me to look after him? Gillion’s generosity has made you too hopeful…

“He’s a good man you know,” she stated, looking to the side.

If you say so…

But, despite my internal scrutiny, I couldn’t find any mental evidence to suggest he was a bad one either.

Was he wrong for not doing more for sorcerers? For us?

Was I lying to myself about the ease at which he could lift a hand to change it all?

Was he simply as stuck as I was?

I shook my head suddenly. Too many questions. Too confusing. But still one escaped my lips.

“How…did you save his life?”

Agnesa let out a small chuckle. “That…is too long a story for us to discuss here and now. You must get back to the Lord.”

I nodded, as I did, my eyes fell on the table, at the papers on it.

“What…are those?” I gestured at the symbols sprawled across the paper, stepping closer to the table. I leant forwards, although the box limited my movement.

Agnesa came to my side. “The marks they found on their bodies.”

“Whose bodies?” I continued to examine the drawings carefully.

“The King’s and the Queen's,” she answered as if it were completely obvious. “The former…King. Elias saw them. He came back here and drew them, I think he hoped that they"— she waved her hands over the papers — “would help in the search for their killers, the sorcerers who did this."

"They’re…” I leant forwards further, to be sure.

The woman leant forwards too, to glance at my face.

“They’re what? Do you know which curse this is?” Her voice rose expectantly.

“That’s just it,” I turned to meet her eyes. “This isn’t a curse at all.”

The woman’s eyes widened frantically.

My voice dropped. “This isn’t sorcery.”