Spellshift (Spellsaga Book 2) Page 4

The cart driver shouted for people to clear his path. The boy, on the other hand, was adept at slipping through the crowd, sliding between bodies and produce stands without slowing down. As the boy caught up to them, Garen watched him vault onto an awning and sprint across it. The boy cut a path too instinctively for this to be his first time. Judging by the look of him, these streets were his home.

  The boy leapt off the awning toward the cart. The man riding in the back didn’t see him coming this time, but it was hard to miss him once he landed. The man stood and released a hard gust of wind into the boy, once again sending him rolling off the back of the cart. His landing was not so graceful this time, and he took a hard fall on his shoulder.

  The guards ahead were already moving to stop the cart. Garen decided to keep close enough to watch. The boy stood. Garen mistook the tremor in his arms for helpless frustration and decided it was time to ask what happened. Instead, the boy screamed at the top of his lungs and swung both his fists at the ground. The impact rippled forward, cracking the paved stone and jutting pieces of the road out in every direction. The artificial landslide reached the cart and overturned it. The horse cried out in terror as it fell to its side along with both men and their cartload.

  Garen ran past the boy and pushed his way through the crowd to where the cart lay on its side. Both men walked around to the back cursing at the top of their lungs. The guards were getting an earful. Garen was so flustered trying to understand their shouting that he missed the boy running past him. The kid leaned into a hard punch into the rider’s stomach. Even given the difference in size, Garen could tell it took the wind out of him.

  “Give her back!”

  “What are you going on about? We have nothing of yours,” the driver insisted.

  “Alright, take a step back,” Garen said, putting himself between the two parties. He turned to the boy. “What are you missing?”

  “They took my sister! I saw them.”

  Garen turned to face the two men, his expression more serious than before. One of the men disregarded him and turned to the guards. Since Garen had slept in his patrol clothes, he wore the same blue trousers and white tunic as the others. But this man wouldn’t be the first outsider to question if he was old enough to be in charge. Neither guard said a word, deferring the situation to Garen.

  The driver huffed. “The boy is mad. We’re traders from Kalyx. We have no children with us.” Garen had considered the men overdressed for local merchants, but if they were from the Eastern Kingdom’s capital city, their fur-lined robes might not be out of place.

  “What’s in the cart, then?” Garen asked.

  “Just a shipment of winter cloaks. See for yourself.” His confidence seemed genuine but somehow still unsettling.

  The man who took the punch finally stood all the way up, his eyes focused on the boy Garen was holding back. “Little snot! I should have you whipped for that assault. And if Annabel has a broken leg, you’ll be pulling this rig all the way east, you hear?”

  “Alright, stay calm.” Garen took the boy by the arm and pulled him along as he moved to check on their horse. The steed was badly frightened, but nothing seemed broken. Garen placed a hand to the ground and tilted the stone until the horse and cart were back on their proper side. Garen made sure as he did to bend the light through every possible crack in the boards. Garen picked up one of the boxes that had fallen off the cart. He pried open the top and confirmed a fine assortment of thick blankets and cloaks, all valuable trade fodder for an Eastern merchant. Garen made a show of reattaching the lid with care and loading it onto the cart. It gave him an opportunity to pull a stone from the pocket in his patrol trousers and wedge it between two boards on the cart’s side.

  “My apologies, sirs. It seems the boy was confused,” Garen said. “I’ll tend to him, and you can be on your way. Just take it slower, please.”

  The driver nodded and the rider gave a heavy grunt, but they left without further complaint. The boy tugged against Garen’s grip as they pulled away, forcing Garen to restrain him completely. He tried to squirm free for several minutes, causing a gossip-worthy scene for the onlookers. Eventually, the thrashing subsided and Garen let go.

  “What’s your name?” Garen asked.

  The boy spoke angrily at the ground. “I can’t believe you let them take her.” He tried walking away.

  Garen took him by the shoulders to force his attention. “I asked, what’s your name?”

  The boy met Garen’s eyes with overflowing rage and confusion. “Why would I tell a soulless sack like you who I am? You just helped them get away. I was the one who was supposed to look after her. Dad made me promise. But now she’s gone and you’re the idiot that let them!”

  Garen sighed. “I’m also the idiot who’s going to get her back. There was a false bottom in that cart. It was empty, or else I would have stopped them. But a cart like that is only good for one thing. They were smugglers, and if you think they took her, I’d wager somehow they did.”

  The boy stood still, trying as hard as possible to process the information.

  “Now, you’re lucky I didn’t change out of my patrol gear last night because that means I had a tracking geonode on me to wedge inside their cart. The Spellswords are going to track them down and get her back, which I was going to tell you after you politely answered me, but this order works, too. So, one more time. What’s your name?”

  The boy stared into Garen’s eyes. His expression had shifted into a pained swirl of doubt and hope. Garen simply nodded, hoping to break through and earn his trust. The boy didn’t smile, but he extended a dirty hand.

  “Belen.”

  * * * * *

  “No, absolutely not. No one is leaving the kingdom to chase after a missing child right now.” Micah paced nervously in their meeting room among the Spellswords. Instead of the regalia they’d last seen him in, Micah wore a white tunic and black trousers. His hair was down, and he rubbed his temples. He addressed Garen without eye contact. “You believe that Aethis saw through your light magic, yes? I don’t blame you for that, but realize it took one person to expose you. How do you expect to sneak around the most gifted mages in the world and hide any better?”

  “Aethis called them ‘slavetowers’ when we spoke,” Garen replied. “How hard could they be to find?”

  Drake cleared his throat. “You’ve seen Kalyx, right? Much of the city stretches rather...skyward.”

  “Alright,” Garen nodded, “but you’re forgetting about the tracking geonode. If we go now, I can find where the cart took her. Then, Belen can point out his sister, and we prove they abducted a kid off the streets.”

  “Now you want to bring the child with you? I’m aware that we need the intelligence gathered. What you don’t understand is that I can’t watch you kick a beehive like you did last week and still send you off under the premise you’ll do better this time. Until you learn how to actually operate with some measure of stealth, I can’t risk any further political complications.”

  “I will agree that it’s complicated,” Drake said, calm and composed. “But truthfully, I side with Garen. Sarkos might be mad. Perhaps he’s raising an army for self-serving reasons. But after seeing the followers responsible for the Apatten, I think the enslavement of the Western people will be their rallying cry. Belen isn’t the first in any kingdom to report it. I grew up hearing the same rumors, and I know it’s far worse in the poorest regions.”

  Garen knew a little of what he meant, but all second-hand. Villages in the Western Kingdom were on hard times. They had to survive on the trade of their mining and steel smelting since the badlands had only a few farmable regions. The abundance of geonodes from the Eastern Kingdom put the West at a loss to compete lately. Garen had taken the life of one man already, Sustek Nash, who’d cut deals for families being sold into the magic trade. At the time, he thought the man was guilty of murdering his mother. But even knowing that to be false now, he didn’t regret what had to be done.

  “W
e get that,” Morgan cut in. She matched Drake’s calm demeanor, achieving it with a casual tone instead of formalities. “But Micah is right. It’s too high a risk. Sure, we’ll benefit if everything goes well. But when has that ever happened?”

  “Drake, you of all people should know how fragile this matter is,” Micah said. “If we tip our hand as indelicately as we did the other day, you’ll be risking your status among the Ambersong family. They’ll disown you if they think the Spellswords are trying to undermine the Geonode Guild.”

  “Come on, Micah.” Garen tried to sound as casual as Morgan. He knew if it resorted to formalities that the king in the room might pull rank. “You don’t have to hide behind the hood and act like Kiron anymore. You’re not supposed to be a worrier. You’re the king! Just say the word and we can make this right for you.”

  His words did not have the intended effect. “You think being a king is about commanding whatever I please? When Sarkos escalates whatever assault he’s planning because of our intrusion, whose shoulders do you think it’ll fall on? The person I commanded? Or the one commanding? I can tell you with certainty that if you defy the Geonode Guild, it won’t be your head they come for. It’ll be mine. My kingdom. My wars. So yes, I worry. It’s the only thing keeping us alive.”

  The room hung in heavy silence. No one dared to cheapen Micah’s words with their own. They sat in deliberation of how to proceed until a series of blue lights took them by surprise. The wristbands of Micah and each Spellsword lit up one after another.

  A voice filled the room from their relays. “Should I assume you cowards have made up your minds, then?”

  Garen tried to place the voice, but he had never heard anyone outside of the present company use the relay. No one else should be able to listen or speak to them at all.

  “Who is this?” Micah demanded.

  “No one the Jundux family recognizes. That’s why I’ll need your city as my witness. Personally, I’d prefer to skip this formality, but Aethis promised you some sort of additional chance. Consider it given.”

  A deafening howl shook the palace. Micah and all five Spellswords bolted for the door. They rushed from their secluded hall and into the palace proper. They ran past servants and nobles, all scrambling or plugging their ears. Instead of descending as usual, Micah led them up a spiral staircase. He pushed his way through the panicking staff until he found a balcony to step onto.

  Beneath them, Vikar-Tola cowered in dread. Garen couldn’t follow sounds like he could light, but with a broad focus, he realized what was happening. The geonode echoers from the other day filled the city with an ear-splitting, shrill note. Garen was ready to leap out and try smashing one when the noise stopped. He crouched on the bannister as the familiar voice boomed through the city.

  “My name is Sarkos Avethi, rightful leader of the Western Kingdom. I intrude upon you today because no one else has the bravery to expose your king’s lies. The late Pyralis Jundux did not fall ill. He was murdered by his own brother and the dishonorable Spellswords. Meanwhile, your Eastern neighbors continue to enslave both of our peoples and spread the corruption of magic. If your ‘treasured Spellswords’ would have devoted an ounce of their time to solving this world’s problems instead of assassinating the one man trying to fix them, we could have been allies. As it stands, this is your final warning. People of Vikar-Tola, Spellswords, King Micah Jundux, hear this now. If you continue to turn a blind eye to the true atrocities being committed in this realm, then you stand against justice. Reevaluate what you stand for or there will be no place for you in the empire I will forge.”

  All six of them stood in stillness, suddenly faced with the heart of Micah’s worries. Meanwhile, the encumbered king buried his face in his hands, experiencing a whole new degree of terror.

  * * * * *

  The only decision made in the moment was to remove their wrist relays. Micah was appalled by Sarkos’ ability to listen in on them. The relays had been a huge aid to the Spellswords, both in the city and on missions. They were a recent and costly investment, even by a king’s standard. Now, they were worthless.

  Micah disappeared into meetings with his advisors for days, leaving Garen and the others with nothing but speculation to what lay ahead. Drake and Argus seemed open to the benefit of investigating the slave trade in the East. Unfortunately, they were also in support of growing the military with specializations like the Centralians. They weren’t looking forward to conflict, but they thought it was a decent fit to protect the kingdom from a horde of Apatten.

  Naia and Morgan took the opposite viewpoint. Morgan had voiced her doubts about taking risks already, but Naia took an equally vocal role once Micah left the room. She had no confidence in Garen’s ability to keep hidden among the Geonode Guild and no appreciation for a bunch of clueless militants being recruited to get in her way.

  Naia had other choice comments about Garen’s intellect when he tried to argue back. So, Garen ventured his way up to the palace library early the next morning. Not because she was right, though. Garen hoped it would remind him of a calmer time in his life. Garen learned to read with his parents at a young age, long before they relented on teaching him how to fight. Now, Garen had access to a palace library overflowing with scrolls and tomes. He searched the shelves for anything that looked useful and recent about the Eastern Kingdom. He found one with potential and sat down to crack its leather-bound cover.

  Reading quickly turned into skimming for Garen. He couldn’t spend his entire day tucked away. He wanted to keep checking on Tarn, and he needed to pay Belen a visit after. Micah gave Belen a place to stay in a guest wing of the palace, but Garen knew that being cooped up and supervised was a jarring change in life for the kid. So far, Garen had taken him outside of the city walls for a little each day under the pretense of training. Belen was talented, but Garen certainly didn’t plan on involving him in the more dangerous fights to come. His biggest concern was keeping Belen occupied and trusting that they could handle it. Otherwise, he knew Belen might march his way east and end up a prisoner just like her.

  Amidst his thoughts, Drake stepped into the library. His formal composure lapsed while he gave Garen a double-take. Garen smiled and continued skimming through pages for something to catch his eye. Nothing did. Once Drake returned a pair of scrolls to the attendant, he took a seat next to Garen.

  “What brings you here, if I may be so bold?” Drake asked.

  Garen slid the book to the side. “I’ve heard bolder. Especially if you count Naia asking when the last time I’d read something was. But I guess everyone gets a turn to say it. ‘Why are you pretending to be smart? Did you get lost on your way to steal something?’”

  “No, quite sorry,” Drake placed his palms forward, his entire posture rigid. He was a bold fighter, but few things terrified him as much as overstepping social boundaries. “I meant no offense. I merely wondered what topic caught your interest from the shelves.”

  “Well, I sort of found this thing.” Garen folded the cover of the book closed, revealing the title. A City of Wonder: Kalyx Origins and Charters.

  Drake nodded. “Of course. I’m sure the culture and customs of my family seem quite foreign to you. I’m glad you’re interested. Though if I recall, that history might be a little biased. Remember that Kalyx hides its dirty faces better than anywhere in the world.”

  “Yeah, I guess I was dumb to think I’d find a bold heading labeled, ‘How bad is their slavery?’” Garen said.

  Drake laughed cordially, but the smile quickly faded. “Perhaps, but you’d be justified in expecting some kind of mention. I’m familiar with the guild charters. They dance around the topic like it doesn’t exist. Every reference to the Geonode Guild’s laborers treats them like willing adults. Maybe you’ve heard them called “Industrial Magi” or some nonsense. They do exist. I’ve met quite a few. But nowhere near enough to produce every lamp, heater, and levitrans that comes out of those walls.”

  “But why take kids?” Garen a
sked. “I mean, they need people with lots of depth to imbue geonodes, so why not adults? When I think of the industrial magi, I think of a bunch of meditating old guys. Not random kids. They’ve got no way to know how much depth a kid inherited.”

  “Perhaps it’s easier? For most families, inheritance plays only a small role. A child forced into labor earns their own depth rather quickly. We’re all proof of that.”

  Garen saw the distant, somber look in Drake’s eyes and wanted to know what life had been like for a young noble. Drake had already shared that he’d spent his life training and waiting to inherit the spirit. But Garen had assumed Drake’s family was equally gentle and gave him the same respect that Drake showed in return. If Drake’s personality was a reaction instead of a reflection, that meant something entirely different for the man’s childhood.

  Garen wanted to know more, but it felt cruel to pry. He decided to stay in the present. “So, if we do get an assignment to Kalyx, do I finally get to see what you’re always traveling east for?” Garen’s eyes brightened. “Oh, would I get to join you at one of your fancy noble parties?”

  “Garen, you mean the world to me as a friend. But I would sooner take an angry Fire Spellsword to a dry forest than escort you to an Ambersong banquet.”

  Garen laughed loud enough that the library attendant shot him a dirty look. He was glad no one else was around this early in the day to intrude on their conversation.

  “I think what you meant to say was that you’d rather take a certain Fire Spellsword to a banquet. Have I picked up on something between you and Morgan over time?”

  Drake was immediately flustered. He had no dignified defense, or barely words for that matter. His face flushed. “There’s really nothing—”

  Garen smiled. “Don’t worry. What was it you teased me about with Naia? Oh, that’s right. ‘She’s a beautiful girl. Your secret’s safe with me.’”

  Drake took a deep breath and pressed his fist into his forehead. Despite his jitters, Drake seemed to be smiling. He stood to leave. “Enjoy your biased books and your so-called secrets. I’ll send word if Tarn is awake later.”