Chosen (12 page)

Someday, I will find a rich man to sweep me off my feet and give me all that I have ever desired.
She stared enviously at the woman as she glided down the street.

“It must be magic! It is perfectly
scandalous
! Why, can you imagine the faces of the folk back home if we were to come back wearing such a thing?” Keera's blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

“A special adhesive sticks the gown to the skin. It loses its ability to stick in the heat, so the one wearing it must either be close to home to get more, or they carry some on hand for such—hhmm, ahhhhmmm--
emergencies
.” Brok coughed, slightly embarrassed.

Kaelin gave Brok a strange look. ‘How do you know all this?”

“As a Mystic and learned man, there are many things I know which you do not,” he answered.

The students wrinkled their noses as they moved closer to the river. The ramshackle huts were made of whatever materials could be found in the city or washed up on shore. Chamber pots were emptied right in the streets, or at the river's edge. The odor of many kinds of food being cooked emanated from doorways, filling the narrow streets with a nauseating stench. The folk here often had to eat whatever they could catch fish or hunt. Many of the poorest had to scavenge in the refuse piles left by the rich merchants, lords and ladies, or by the Patriarch himself. The destitute had to pick over the piles of garbage for usable items and edible scraps of food before the Cleaners arrived.

The overwhelming stench left the students feeling sick. The smell did not affect Master Brok. He stopped an old woman, stooped and shriveled, and asked her for directions to The Crows Nest tavern. She pointed to a rundown building just a little way down the street. Master Brok thanked her and pressed a coin into her wrinkled, liver-spotted hand.

“You children stay here. I will speak with the tavern owner.”

Brok's skin tingled and crawled as though covered in thousands of ants. He resisted the urge to brush at his arms.

He dismounted Midnight and handed her reins to Saemus. He grimaced as he stretched, trying to loosen his knotted muscles. The doorway of the tavern was small and pitch black, like an opening to some evil place, devoid of all light and life. Brok's skin pebbled in goose flesh.

The inside of the tavern was not nearly as shabby as the exterior. Though the wood of the bar, tables, and stools was old, it was
scrubbed clean. The floor was covered with fresh sawdust. Lamps were lit along the walls and behind the bar, giving off a warm glow that gave the room a cheerful look and feel.

“Can I help you?”

Brok glanced to his right at the greeting.

The tavern owner was a tall, thin man with a bald head. His had a goatee and mustache, black as midnight.

But it was his eyes that sucked all cheer out of the room. They were black and lifeless, a doll's eyes. A scar ran from his left cheek to his chin, giving his mouth a cruel twist.

“I will ask again. How may I help you?” The man asked in a flat monotone. He glanced down at Master Brok's robes, before meeting Brok's blue eyes with his dead black ones.

“I am looking for someone. I was told he may have stopped here.” Master Brok stood tall and erect, determined to show no weakness in front of this man. Brok knew that this man was dangerous, more dangerous than anyone he had yet encountered. Evil emanated from this man in waves. Yet he could see no weapon that the man carried and he appeared to be alone.

“I am not in the habit of divulging information about my patrons. Many who find their way here do not wish to be found.” The tavern owner made his way past Brok.

“This someone I seek is but a boy, fifteen name days. He has sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.”

“A lad you say? Fifteen name days?” The man laughed, filling the room with its chilling sound. “Why, he is a man grown. And no longer in need of his parent's care.” He crossed his arms and faced Brok. “I have already told you; I will not divulge information about my patrons. If that is all…” He pointed with his chin towards the open door.

“I am not leaving.” Brok stood his ground, refusing to budge.
I must have answers.
Brok whispered the words that would force this man to speak the truth. “
Narro verum.”

The man gazed at Brok, mouth twisted into its permanent sneer. “Care to try again old man?”

Brok took an involuntary step back, his heart pounding in his ears. The truth spell should have rendered the man willing to spill
his guts. Yet he stood, with his lopsided grin, gazing at Master Brok as if nothing had happened.

Brok turned to run for the door. Fa' Vel moved to stand in front of the Mystic. He grabbed Brok's arm in a vise-like grip, black eyes glued to Brok's blue ones.

“
Redimio.”

To Brok's dismay, he found himself unable to move. The man laughed as he stepped back, arms crossed, head tilting side to side, as if observing some piece of furniture to purchase.

“What do they teach Mystics these days?” he scoffed. “What is your name Mystic? And do tell me the truth. The consequences of lying will be most severe, I assure you.”

“I am called Brok.”

“Fa' Vel.” The man bowed mockingly. “What is so important about this boy that you would come looking for him?” The man stroked his chin.

Brok tried unsuccessfully to move his arms and legs. Thoughts whirled and buzzed in his head, threatening to overwhelm him.
I must keep my wits about me.

Terror threatened to overwhelm him. Fa' Vel was one who practiced the dark arts. They took part in evil, secret rituals that enabled them to harness the energy of everything around them to perform spells and charms. This stealing of energy, this rape of the natural world, was forbidden.

“And now, old man, you will tell me everything I want to know.” Fa' Vel leaned close. “
Narro verum.”

Brok clenched his teeth as he fought the magic. The spell had not been delivered with much force, but it would soon overpower Brok's ability to fight it. The truth about his presence on this planet was close to being revealed. Brok's breath hissed through clenched teeth as he fought the spell, tears of frustration and terror running down his wrinkled cheeks. The hypnotic, seductive voice in his head urged him to speak. It pulled and tugged at the walls he attempted to erect around his mind, eager for what was hidden within. Brok whipped his head side to side and cried out as he fought to keep the words that would betray him and the Chosen inside.

“Master Brok! What's going on?”

Brok's heart sank as he saw Keera storm into the tavern, followed by Gwen and the Barlow twins.

Run children!
He tried to shout.

“
Redimio!”

Fa' Vel turned toward Keera and her eyes widened as she found herself frozen in place.

“
Redimio!”

He tried to use the words of power against Gwen but was unable to do so. Gwen, Saemus, and Kaelin ran past Keera and stood next to Master Brok.

“
Redimio.”
The twins whispered as they joined hands.

Fa' Vel snarled as he found himself frozen in place.

“
Silentium.”
Saemus and Kaelin spoke together.

Fa' Vel's eyes shot daggers as air filled his mouth, creating an invisible yet formidable gag.

Master Brok gasped, suddenly able to move. “Saemus, Kaelin, do not loosen your hold on the man!”

“Don't worry, Master Brok, we can hold him easily.” Saemus looked to his twin, who nodded in agreement.

“What is going on? Who is he? And how was he able to bind you?” Gwen looked from Brok to Fa' Vel and back again.

“He's a dark magician, child.” Brok sighed. “I have been feeling that something was wrong since we reached the city, but I never expected the source to be a dark magician.”

Brok took a moment to collect his thoughts. He felt in need of a wash and suspected that it had to do with coming into contact with dark magic. He shivered and his skin broke out in gooseflesh.

Thanks to the timely intervention by the students, Brok was able to ascertain the man's weakness. When confronted with having to perform more than one spell, Fa' Vel was unable to do so.

“Does he know anything about Jon?” Gwen's question brought Brok out of his reverie.

“Yes, child. This man is going to tell us everything he knows.”

* * *

Brok stormed out of the tavern. The Chosen scrambled out of his way as he mounted his horse. He gave the animal a sound kick. Sold,
like a piece of meat or a turnip bought at market.

From Faerow, Brok led the group to Saguach Port where he planned to hire a boat to take them across to the Eastern Continent.

Brok gazed out across the Sea of Solace, looking for a ship that would suit their needs. He ignored the whispering of his Chosen, obviously burning with curiosity and yet too afraid of this drastic change in their mentor's demeanor to ask questions. Brok pushed the thoughts aside. The only thing that mattered was getting Jon back. There would be time enough for explanations when the signs appeared.

The time must be close now.

The prophecy had been vague and enigmatic about the exact time the signs would appear on the four worlds of the Chosen. The Masters thought it due to the passing of time differently. What passed for a day on one planet could be many days, months, or even years on another. The Guardians had no choice but to travel to their new worlds and wait for the signs.

Brok squinted his eyes and shaded them from the bright noon-day sun. Without a word to his Chosen, he moved toward a ship he thought would do nicely. It was sleek and trim, every inch of her stained a dark brown, almost the color of dried blood.

“Who is the captain of this vessel?” Brok called out.

“That would be me, Thrace Morden.”

Brok looked upward at the face peering down at him from over the railing. “I seek passage for myself and these four,” he tilted his head in the direction of the Chosen.

“For what purpose?”

“Does it matter? I have coin to pay for passage. Our business is our own.”

The face disappeared behind the railing.

Blast it!

Brok turned to go but was stopped by the sound of footsteps coming from the gangplank. He turned to face the man he assumed belonged to the person he had seen earlier.

Captain Thrace Morden wasn't a man most women would swoon over but Brok admitted there was something appealing about the man's suntanned face and windswept hair. Something wild and free, begging to be tamed. Brok met the man's inquisitive eyes, sensing there was more to this meeting than mere coincidence.

“Why did you choose my ship?”

“I require speed. Your ship looks to posses that very quality.” Brok said carefully.

Captain Morden turned and spit into the water. “Aye, that I can. When necessary.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence as the men studied one another.

“Are we going to sit in the hot sun all day or hire a blasted ship?” Keera blurted.

“Hold your tongue, child!”

Keera's face reddened and she opened her mouth. Brok raised an eyebrow and she closed it with an audible snap. He turned back to the captain, ready to begin the process of bargaining for passage across the Sea of Solace.

Brok pulled his horse back and the captain barged down the gangplank toward the group, eyes intently searching the four behind Brok, his hand rubbing his face and muttering under his breath.

“I'll ask again, why do you wish to travel to the Eastern Continent?”

Brok was puzzled at the man's earnest questions.

Almost as though he suspects something.

With a dry mouth and pulse pounding in his ears Brok answered, “We are searching for someone. A lad from our village that was taken against his will from Faerow.”

Captain Morden blanched and gave the sign that warded evil Spirits away. “The good Spirits forgive me.” He turned and leaned heavily on the edge of the pier, head hanging dejectedly.

“What do you know? Speak!”

“I have seen the boy you speak of.”

“We know he's being taken to Queen Cheye's palace. What ship carried him?”

Captain Morden turned to face Brok, eyes filled with pain and remorse. “Mine.”

* * *

“I can't believe this! We should be handing this man over to the authorities, not having him chaperone us across the sea!” Keera announced as the group sat down to eat.

“People can repent of their wrongs they have committed. I'm sure
you
have never done anything to harm another,” Brok looked at her pointedly.

“Ugh, isn't there anything the men can do about the miserable swaying of the ship?” Kaelin asked, her hand over her mouth.

“Count yourself lucky, lass. Normally, the seas are a lot rougher this time of year. We seem to have a calm stretch,” Cook said as he passed around plates heaped with food.

Kaelin and Keera blanched as they got wind of the rich food. Both girls puched back from the table, mumbling excuses as to why they weren't hungry.

“Try some biscuits. It will help to settle your tummy somewhat,” Brok said.

Both girls nibbled on biscuits and sipped water but in no time both were on deck, faces turned to the fresh breeze.

Brok turned to Captain Morden. “I think I need to know what transpired here.”

Morden swallowed hard. “I never should have agreed to the passage. Should have said no, kept my nose out of it. But a man in my position doesn't often come across that much gold offered for a single cargo.”

“Well versed in the selling of human beings, are we?” Gwen stabbed hard at a piece of meat.

“I'm an honest merchant, for the most part. I've never before aided in the kidnapping of a person—”

Brok held up his hand and gave Gwen a sharp look. “Did the men give any indication why Jon was the one chosen? Surely if the Queen needed someone who could perform magic, there are people in her own kingdom that can do that. There was no need to kidnap a fifteen year old boy.”

What if she knows his true identity?

Brok placed his shaking hands in his lap, trying to keep from betraying that there was anything more to this journey than the rescue of a boy. Thrace Morden was no fool.