Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

Having decided to try and break free from their captors, Jaden and Mirena are faced with the struggle for their lives. The rest of the group use their various means and talents to find them before it is too late.

Flashback: Jaden seeks to complete the last trial of his Mystic's training.

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Chapter 8: Taking Breath

JADEN

When the worst heat of the summer had left the mountains, it made travel almost enjoyable. Even with the sun high in the sky, the air was still fresh and invigorating. Clouds chased across that big sky. From up here, you could almost see from one horizon to the other. If you let it, it could be a breath-taking view, the world.

It had been a long day of walking, but he wouldn’t admit to any weakness. The family motto was ‘strength in all things, strength above all things,’ and he would live up to that just like every member of his blood was expected to. He would make his father proud, and find a strong spirit. Something dangerous and powerful, so he could stand by his father’s side as an equal.

“You didn’t tell me how far you were going to go?” His companion asked. The hood shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked across the valley stretching out below the mountain path.

He had caught up with her an hour or so ago. Perhaps he had been walking faster than he should have, he was still not used to traveling on his own; but he wanted to get this quest of his underway as soon as possible. It was the most important part of his training, after all.

She had been just another traveller like him, dressed sensibly for the season with a light dustcloak to keep the dry mountain dirt from clinging to her clothes. He guessed she was a relative of another initiate in Talraman, having paid a visit, or perhaps a messenger. The Lacunai employed a number of them to keep informed about the events of the world.

When he saw her on the road she had been just a silhouette, but as he kept walking he began catching up with her. Clearly she wasn’t in any hurry.

“Honestly? I’m not sure,” he said. He looked down the road as far as he could see.

Every quest had to be personal, Master Viskeri had said to the gathered initiates. It was up to them to try to find a place that felt right, however long that could take. Only then would they be able to commune with the flow of magic, and attract the spirit that would be their ally for the rest of their lives. The offering and the truename would then seal the pact.

“That’s not a very good place to start a journey,” she laughed. “Unless you’re running away from something, rather than towards it?”

“I’m not running away!” Jaden frowned at the woman. “I’m just taking things one step at a time. I’ll start in Tarad.”

“Good enough place, I guess. It’s the closet town, right?” She smiled again, and reached up to keep her hood in place as a wind played with their hair. She had the kind of black hair that was common around the southern kingdoms. She didn’t look Etrian or Olman, though.

“That’s right. It’s just at the edge of Olmar, bordering the Sorun wildlands to the west.” Jaden remembered the map he had studied several times back home. “Talraman gets most of the supplies we need from there.”

As the road was winding down the mountainside, they reached a small campsite. A welcome stream gushed out of the rocks nearby, brought up from some underground lake, Jaden imagined.

It felt good to sit down for a bit. A couple of large logs made for makeshift benches. A number of trees tried to eke out an existence along the mountain, but not all of them made it through the dryer months.

Jaden poked around in his backpack. He had enough food to last him several days, more than enough to reach Tarad and resupply there. Though where he was headed after that, he wasn’t sure. Follow your instincts, Master Viskeri kept telling them. Jaden had never put a whole lot of trust in his instincts. They always tended to land him in trouble. No, he preferred to know.

The woman had picked a spot on a nearby log and stretched her arms and neck. Jaden snuck a glance at her while he was unpacking his food. She was really quite pretty, from what he could tell underneath her cloak, even beautiful.

“Do you want anything? I have more than I can eat.” Jaden unwrapped some fruit and bread from a square cloth. He could at least be polite.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you,” she said, smiling widely. She went over and sat next to him as he divided up their food. She smelled really nice up close. Some sort of subtle scent he couldn’t quite place. Was it violets?

Taking a bite out of the fresh bread, Jaden took a long look around the campsite. Beyond the ridge, the west Olmar valley was visible. It wasn’t too hot, and the burbling spring made the air less dry. He could see why people had made camp here before. It was a nice place.

“You know, I don’t know what to call you,” he asked casually. She seemed like a nice person, a good companion for the road. Maybe they would continue together after they got to Tarad?

She finished chewing her fruit, and gave him another one of those big smiles. His heart almost skipped a beat when she leaned in close to his face with downcast eyes. Their noses were almost touching.

“Do you want me to tell you?” That scent was stronger, compelling.

“Y- Yes.” Jaden felt his face flush red. Something with all of this felt so right.

Wait.

Felt right?

“No! You’re it?” He stared in disbelief at the face in front of him. Not a dragon, not a basilisk, not even a sea serpent. “No, that’s…”

She gazed at him. Those eyes, hidden by the hood of the cloak before, were bright golden. Demon eyes.

“I accepted your offering, Jaden.” She held the half-eaten fruit in her hand. “I’m yours, now. Spirit and all.”

She leaned in and whispered her name in his ear.

Jaden opened his eyes, and released a pent-up breath. He was covered in sweat.

The mediation chamber was silent, except for the sound of the two burning braziers. The air was thick with the ceremonial incense, and the scent he couldn’t get out of his mind. He had completed his spirit quest.

Jaden said the only thing he could think of.

“Oh shit!”

They coughed as smoke started to fill the room. This had been a bad idea. Just yet another one in a whole string of bad decisions lately. Maybe even the last he’d make.

Jaden drew upon the bond to his salamander. The fire lost some of its heat, but he knew that would only be for him. Mirena kept moving her lips in a prayer, sweat beading on her face. It was getting much too hot in here for her.

The dull roar of the burning wood drowned out most of the other sounds, but they were sure they heard commotion outside the cell door. Their captors had to react to this. A part of the cellar was on fire, after all. The question was, would Mirena and he make it out of here before they were put in another hostage situation?

Some water leaked in underneath the door, and began to steam as it fought the fire.

“They’re trying to put it out with water?” Mirena held her sleeve across her mouth, trying to avoid inhaling too much smoke.

“That means the nethermancer isn’t here, or involved in something so important that being on fire comes second,” Jaden replied. More water sloshed in.

“Either way, this is our best chance. The door should be weakened from fire and water both.” She seemed to brace herself for a moment. Jaden had a pretty good idea what was coming next, and backed away from the steaming door.

“Telum, grant me strength!” Mirena kicked the door with all her holy might, sending splinters flying and cracking the frame. The door still held, but only just barely. When she put her shoulder to it, ignoring the fire that engulfed it, the door finally gave way.

On the other side, two cultist guards had been thrown to the ground by their violent escape. Pieces of the burning door littered the cellar corridor. Mirena didn’t miss a beat, and slammed into the first man trying to get back to his feet. He didn’t try a second time.

Without a weapon, and unwilling to risk more fire at the moment, Jaden felt like he couldn’t contribute as much to the fight. But he could still pick a page from Oleander’s book of negotiation.

“Stay down if you know what’s good for you,” he commanded the other man who had regained his feet. A ball of fire hovered over Jaden’s hand, ready to explode.

“You wouldn’t! We’d all burn if-“ The cultist staggered and fell over. Mirena wasn’t done fighting just because he felt like talking. A straight punch to the throat sent the Son gasping to the ground.

“You’re all heart, Rena,” Jaden quipped.

“Later, Jaden. Let’s get their weapons.”

Mirena grabbed the simple sword one of them had been unable to draw in time. The other guard carried only a knife and a cudgel. More of a glorified stick, actually.

“I guess I have to settle for the knife?” He held it up. It looked a lot shorter than Mirena’s sword. It didn’t do much for his dwindling masculinity.

“Don’t complain. You have your magic to protect yourself with.” She put out a small fire that had caught on her skirt with her other hand.

“For now,” he mumbled, as they made their way toward the stairs.

They passed several other cells that thankfully were empty. Whatever the Sons were doing here, they had enough space to keep several people locked up down here. These were clearly cells. After all, why would you put bars on the outside of storage rooms?

The door to the abattoir near the foot of the stairs was open. On a slab was the body of the innkeeper who had taken good care of them for the several days they had stayed at the Green Raven. He looked frozen in his final moments, twisted in a torment that belied the simple knife-wound in his chest. Darim had deserved better than this.

Mirena put her hand on the dead man’s shoulder. They could do nothing for this man now. They could only make sure no other blood was spilled because of them.

“Jaden, look out!” Mirena suddenly tackled him to the side as a couple of crossbow bolts zipped into the room. One stuck to a skinned sheep, suspended in a chain from the ceiling. Mirena cried out as the second bit into her side.

He could see the cultists, perhaps three of them, standing by the foot of the stairs. They were reloading their weapons without a care in the world. After all, they had their prey pinned in a room without other exits.

“Telum keep us, and protect us,” Mirena chanted in a low voice. She had already pulled the bolt out and held the bleeding wound. A soft glow emanated from her hands. She would be fine.

“Valignat!” Jaden drew upon his pact once more. He could feel the strength waning. Too much fire, without much magic in return. He would have to repay his debt when this was over. But he had two or three good bursts left before he had to look elsewhere.

The fire had the intended effect. The least lucky one was rolling and screaming on the ground, the other two made no effort to save their comrade, but instead dropped the ruined crossbows and advanced with heavy butchering knives.

“Here they come, Rena!” Jaden called over his shoulder.

“I’m ready,” she replied, already back on her feet with the borrowed sword held high.

The much larger and heavier cultist men crashed into the two, sending Jaden stumbling back into a hanging carcass. Mirena was trained in receiving charges, and pushed her blade through her opponent’s thigh. She immediately stepped closer and grabbed the pommel with both hands and pushed it downwards. Some of the spray touched her face.

Jaden ducked back under the swinging sheep. The one who tackled him battered them aside with his arm, only to be struck in the face by a thrown chair. He glared balefully at the Mystic, and approached with murderous intent.

Jaden looked around for something else to use as a weapon. He did not fancy getting into a knife-fight with someone who slaughtered things for a living. Well, he didn’t actually have to. He gave the angry cultist a speculative look, then raised his hand and pointed.

The Sons fought without regard for their own lives. They were terrifying opponents who would accept any injury if it meant hurting them. Even while bleeding to death from his ruined leg, Mirena’s opponent grabbed her throat in an effort to strangle her.

“No more shadows can linger, when the flesh has forgotten!” The dying man rasped as he clawed at her neck. She pushed him off, dismissing his cryptic rambling, and tugged at the sword buried in his leg. She caught Jaden shouting a strange word, and then heard some clattering noise from where he and his opponent were hidden behind the hooked meat.

“Rena! Help?” Jaden didn’t sound very frightened.

When she ducked past the carcasses, she saw Jaden trapped under the body of the second cultist. He tried to push the man off, but wasn’t strong enough to move the huge bulk. That cultist was almost the size of Kellen. Together they managed to drag the man off, and as soon as he rolled over Mirena saw to her surprise that he was still conscious. He was even moving slightly, but couldn’t seem to muster the strength to do so. His lips were moving too, and he managed to wheeze something at Jaden as the Mystic got to his feet.

“I wonder what that meant,” Jaden straightened his hat as they looked at the weakly struggling cultist.

“What did he say?”

“’The last to serve the eyeless, the first to blind the world’. I’ve never heard anything like that before,” Jaden admitted. “Then again, I think we’ve already discussed how crazy these people are.”

“What did you do to him?” She asked, as they left the slaughter room.

“Another time, Rena. He’ll be back up in a couple of minutes, so let’s not be here by then.” Jaden adjusted his new nondescript hat again, and they headed for the stairs.

Like called like. Some might argue that opposites attract, but in the world of magic it was always ‘birds of a feather’. Kellen held the carefully wrapped bundle as he walked through the streets of Tier. It helped when he didn’t actually look where he was going. He just followed the pull of the skull.

The Sons of Husk had held this icon in countless ceremonies. They had shed blood before it. They had enslaved ghosts with it. It was tainted by their rites, as they were tainted by it. It was a filthy feeling, like wading through a latrine of liquid hatred for all life, but it was what he needed right now.

Hopefully his way would be faster than Oleander’s. He didn’t know where she was, but he did know she was extremely weak from her experience with the very item he carried. No wonder. He could feel it eating away at him even now. He also knew that he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she got hurt when her safety had been his responsibility.

Kellen cursed his fate silently. This was one of the reasons he had left home. Responsibility. Everywhere he went, people seemed to look to him for advice, for help, for reasons. He didn’t want to carry that burden. Losing someone under his care would break him, he was sure. No, he left leadership to other more capable souls. Like Mirena. She was a true leader. Reliable and honest, brave and strong. Even his cousin, with all his faults, was a better commander.

The pull drew him through an alleyway. It was probably an unwise idea to walk alone and unarmed in this part of the city, especially in alleys, but Kellen’s sheer size made any would-be robbers think twice, and back away. They would be running if they knew he was carrying a skull.

He was close now. He could feel it. Without the shaman training to fully understand the world of spirits, he couldn’t tell for sure. It was as if there were silent screams coming from somewhere nearby.

Rhyce almost did a double-take when he saw who walked by just on the other side of the street. He tapped Stann on the shoulder to get his attention from whoever he was harassing at the moment.

“I just saw Red over there,” the archer said as he pointed toward the slowly walking redhead.

“What? That’s imposs- well, okay, there she is.” Stann gave him an acknowledging nod, and they left a seedy-looking man alone to catch up with their wayward friend.

“Hey, Red!” Stann tried to shout over the general racket of the street. Rhyce shook his head, and tried another method.

“Stop! Thief! Get her!”

That made most people stop what they were doing and look around. Oleander instinctively hunched down a little, looking a bit guilty. When she looked their way, both of the men waved. Stann was smiling widely.

Several people had formed a circle around hoping to witness a spectacle of some kind. A concerned person came up next to them.

“What did she steal?”

“My friend’s heart, of course!” Stann laughed, and sent the elderly man on his way. There were sighs of disappointment from the gawkers, though at least one of them said how romantic this was.

As the gathering cleared up a bit, Stann and Rhyce took Oleander to the side of the street, which was just as well. She didn’t look like she should be out of bed. She was quite pale and stopped to cough a few times. A couple of black birds squawked from their perch at a nearby roof.

“Good to see you awake,” Rhyce said, as close as a welcoming hug you were likely to get from him.

“But where is that ugly cousin of mine? He was supposed to take care of you,” Stann grumbled. He trusted Kellen more than anyone else in the world. It didn’t make sense for the rune seeker to leave Oleander behind.

“He was too caught up with that stupid… thing,” she made a face. There was no need to specify what. “He just wanted to sit there and stare at it until harvest time, so it was up to me — as usual! — to get the job done. I know where the Sons’ other hideout is!”

“The Umnir slaughterhouse off harbour road, near the Olman quarters?” Rhyce deadpanned.

The look on Oleander’s face was worth waking up to her irritating whistling every time she had breakfast duty.

“What… how?!” She stomped the ground weakly.

“Oh, you know: ask enough people and eventually someone has answers,” Stann brushed some imaginary dust off his chain mail.

“It’s not far,” Rhyce had already begun walking again. The birds had flown off.

The fires had spread a bit, despite the cultists’ earlier efforts to put them out. Fighting their way up the stairs provided some fresher air, despite the cuts and scrapes inflicted in the battle. Mirena’s wounds seemed to fade even as they fought on. Those sworn to the temples could draw upon the collective strength of their entire order if their cause was just, only the individual priest set the limit. By the look of her right now, Jaden couldn’t see her limits.

The area they burst out into, pushing the implacable Sons before them on a tide of sword and fire, was big enough to hold a sizeable gathering. Several open doors led to adjoining rooms. It was probably intended as a main storage area. When they were brought here, they had been marched directly down to the cellar. This room had been pretty much empty then, but now the Sons of Husk had mustered whoever was available to put an end to their escape. There were quite a lot of them, and probably more coming.

Over the shoulders of the closest cultists they saw the ritual leader, the nethermancer himself. Jaden hadn’t stopped to consider how the dark magician had survived the hellfire attack yesterday, but now he had to assume the man was protected from even his most powerful magic. The strong, darkly purple bubble that surrounded the man promised that much. They had to know he could repeat the performance from last night. They might even be counting on him switching to that form. He just didn’t know enough about spirit magic to tell whether he could be walking into a trap.

“Well, well,” said the nethermancer with that dry voice. “Do we have to do this all over? I thought that putting you in that room together would quell any more… fires.”

Mirena tossed her hair angrily, the soot on her face looking more like war-paint. She had been burnt many times during their breaking out of that cell. Jaden took stock on the situation, and didn’t like what he saw.

“You must enjoy having innocent blood on your conscience, lady knight!” The older man seemed to vibrate slightly. The air grew heavy, oppressive. It was getting progressively harder to see straight. Jaden could hear a ringing noise in his ears.

“Your little operation here is already gone,” Jaden chanced. “The fire will claim it all, and you won’t be able to sacrifice those girls to your dark lord!”

“You fools! I can choke your pitiful fire like it was a baby in the crib!” The nethermancer spat. “And did you truly believe we would bring them here? We are more numerous than you think, and I will relish pulling the souls from their cold, dead bodies and adding them to my collection!”

Mirena straightened up and looked hard. So the hostages weren’t even here? Then they wouldn’t have to worry about hurting them by mistake.

“This ends now, fiend!” She pointed with the borrowed weapon. It had started to shine with an inner light. To her, it wasn’t the sword itself. It was merely an extension of her faith.

“Just words, little paladin! Just words! Do you have any final ones to share with us before their fate becomes your own?” The purple sphere around the nethermancer crackled with stolen power.

“I am a Sword of Heaven, and this place is lost. Jaden? Burn it all.”

With that, she threw herself against the cultist guards, her unbound hair flying behind her like a battle standard. The gleaming arc of her sword pushed them back several steps before they could recover. She seemed unstoppable.

Jaden couldn’t attack the group, not with her in the middle of everything. That purple sphere would no doubt unravel his fire anyway, just like the ritual leader said. But that left the rest of the house…

He felt his connection dry up, along with a burst of annoyance along the bond, as he let a sustained fiery fan brush across the floor and the ceiling. A salamander’s fire burned hotter than most normal flames, and this place would be completely ablaze within minutes.

The Sons were surrounding Mirena. Without her armour and shield, even her boundless faith wouldn’t save her from being overwhelmed. Jaden had to even the odds. He took a few steps to the side, as if lining up a trick throw of the horseshoe. He drew an imaginary through the group of fighters that didn’t touch his friend. It didn’t even take a single heartbeat. He pointed at the division line.

“Noctophyx!”

The leaves of the forest parted way silently as the shadow sinuously glided toward the lit windows of the cabin. It felt the rhythm of life within the small home. Soon, one of the smaller ones was left alone in a room. It pressed up against the window, pale fingers feeling around for a means to open a way inside.

Suddenly, a pulling sensation deep inside warned it how The Other demanded its strength. The shadow drew back into the darkness and waited, patiently, for the feeling to pass.

The breathing inside the cabin continued for now.

Several of the Sons staggered and fell to their knees. The effect was diminished when many were affected at once, but right here and right now, it might just be enough. Mirena took the opening and broke free of the surround, injuring many of the weakened cultists.

“I will have no more of your meddling, you pathetic beast!” The nethermancer pulled wispy strands from the heavy air and thrust his bony hands toward Jaden. They seemed to crystallise into slivers of spectral agony as they tore through his body.

The world flickered in front of Jaden. Fragments from his past mixed with images of endless fire. It was all he could do not to scream.

Mirena dared to take a look at her friend. He had withstood the assault as if it had been nothing. His clothes weren’t even touched, despite how the slivers punched into a nearby table as if they were made of iron.

“What? How can this be?” The nethermancer grumbled in frustration, he held out his hands and began gathering a mass of screaming fragments.

Jaden’s world was pain. He couldn’t move. He felt the blood run down his body. The aim had been a little off, and that was likely the only thing that saved his life. The illusion that hid him was cast according to his old size, after all. His waist was several inches thinner these days. He was really hurt nonetheless, but none of it showed. The illusion hid any outward signs of injury. The nethermancer raised his hands to unleash a ghost storm to extinguish Jaden once and for all.

“No!” Mirena shouted, trying to bash her way through the almost mindless thugs.

The house began to shake. Large fractures spread throughout the walls. The wooden support pillars started to break.

“Curse of the netherwo-“ the ritual leader began, but as the roof above them collapsed they were flung in different directions.

There were a couple of minor quakes before the house settled. Mirena had managed to get to where Jaden had fallen down, and from their side of the room they saw that most of the central part of the building had become rubble and crushed wood. Limbs of cultists who had been too weak to get out of the way stuck out from underneath the chunks of stone. A faint purple smoke seeped down through the cracks in the floor.

As they sat there, panting, Jaden slowly began to regain his functions. He hurt immensely, but he saw that Mirena bore equally painful wounds from her solitary fight against the entire cult. But they were alive.

“Anyone still breathing in there?” A deep bass voice reached them through the cracks in the wall. They couldn’t help but smile. Kellen.

When they got closer, knowing what house the Sons of Husk must’ve been inside was hard to miss. The street was home to many import businesses and storages, and only one of those large buildings had collapsed in on itself, and was on fire.

People from all around had formed lines to haul buckets of water from nearby wells, and even the harbour itself. It looked like they had the fire under control. At least it wouldn’t spread. Some of the water appeared to behave oddly, rolling like snakes through the broken parts of the house. Apparently one of the volunteers had magic at her command.

“Do you think… this place must be it, right? It would be too much of a coincidence otherwise.” Oleander fought back her fatigue with worry. “What if they’re still inside?”

A couple of Olman harbour-workers ran past with another few buckets of water. Standing on an upended wagon, they saw a tall figure moving his hands in a rhythmic pattern, as if he was painting in the air. The water flowed freely according to his brushstrokes, drowning any fire it found.

“Hey, ugly cousin!” Stann shouted over the noise of the fire fighting effort. He pointed at Oleander when he got Kellen’s attention. “You dropped something!”

“Have you seen Rena and Jay?” Oleander yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Kellen nodded and spared a hand to point toward the other side of the road. There, several people sat with their backs to a baker’s shop, being tended to by some of the local women. Even with torn clothes and a dirty face, they recognised Mirena immediately. Jaden looked strangely unblemished by the experience, but sat like he was in a lot of pain. Oleander almost cried as she ran up to them.

“I’m… I was… You’re okay. You’re here, and you’re okay,” she repeated, as she hugged Jaden close. He breathed in sharply, and stiffened. She felt something wet on her hand. “You’re hurt!”

“No, not that bad. That’s not my blood,” Jaden lied. It wasn’t as if he could unmake his illusion and show his wounds. That would show too many other things as well. “I just got a few ribs cracked when the house dropped on us.”

“The important part is that we’re all alive,” Mirena breathed. “And that the Sons of Husk finally are wiped off the face of the world.”

When the fires had died down, they helped each other back to the Northlander leatherwork store. Clan loyalties, after all, were strong. They would not have to stay at a strange inn with their injuries. The good clansman had plenty of space where seasonal workers were lodged as they came down from the north with pelts and skins during the spring, but by now they had already returned back home as the summer had arrived. It wasn’t luxury, but at the time even a simple straw mattress felt like the finest down.

For now, they could take a breath and rest.