Glyphbinder (12 page)

Kara touched his arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.” The shadows were gone, now, but his longing and unfocused grief remained. “I’m sorry. I am delaying us.”

Jair gave him a short nod. “By greeting them and acknowledging their passing, you helped them move on.” He climbed up on the wagon. “They’re at peace now.”

They got moving again, and soon enough the storm died. They rode now on a well-kept road amidst a dark and forested countryside. Trell glanced once at Jair, thinking to ask him about the shadows, but he could see nothing of Jair’s face. Jair had tilted his hood to the sky, and his whole body remained still.

How had Trell known those people? That woman? He concentrated on their surroundings because those questions made him cold. He picked out level road in the wagon lights and the same white oaks he had seen inside Solyr. Gray leaves rustled in the wind.

Kara glanced back from the fore, riding with Byn, and Trell increased Chesa’s pace. Anything else would seem unfriendly or worse, suspicious. He did not know what one said after a procession of ghosts appeared. He didn’t know the protocol.

“Hey,” Kara said, eying him as he rode up. “Still spooked?”

Her dark gelding rode just behind Byn’s chestnut horse, not beside it. Trell knew horses didn’t like to ride side by side and wondered where he had learned that. In the town he couldn’t remember? From the spirits he’d seen dancing in that storm?

“I’m fine,” he lied. “I’m sorry I delayed things back there.”

“Don’t fret about it. I would imagine all magic seems very new to you. Honestly, if spirits stopping by is really what happened back there, it’s new to me as well.”

Byn nodded. “Though I would like to know when you turned into Jair.”

“Settle.” Kara shushed Byn. “Trell, I don’t know what you saw back there. I can’t explain it, but Adept Anylus is a Soulmage adept, and we’ll meet him at Tarna. If anyone knows, he does.”

“Thank you.” That didn’t make Trell feel any better, but it provided a fiction to get them through the night. Small comfort.

“Restless souls aside,” Kara said, “how did it go with Aryn?”

“It didn’t really go much at all. He seems vexed by the fact that he owes you his life. Other than that, he’s rather taciturn.”

It helped to talk about anything besides the souls. They made him feel empty. He welcomed any conversation right now.

“Ha.” Kara peeled back her veil and reached into her open saddlebag. “It was strange seeing him this afternoon, after … well, you saw. Penitent.” She pulled out a small peach. “Maybe his brush with death has made him reflect on his life.”

“Or on how he’ll get even,” Byn added.

Trell frowned behind his veil. “Do you really think he will act against you, even after what happened at Solyr?”

Byn snorted and looked ahead. Kara just smiled. “I’ve no wish to discuss him further. If he wants to help me on this journey, he knows where I ride.” She took one vicious bite from her peach.

Trell approved. He had his eyes on Aryn. After they had traveled for some time and hardy brown cedar replaced white oak, Kara glanced back again.

“So, have you remembered anything? About yourself, I mean?”

“I remembered how I kept my hair.”

“Did you forget how to button your shirt?”

Trell pulled open his cloak and looked down. The shirt looked buttoned correctly to his eyes, and he assumed Landra would have warned him if it were not. What had he done wrong?

“You sweet dear. You make it all so easy.” Kara sighed, obviously for his benefit. “This will be a long ride. Do you know any jokes?”

Trell frowned as he looked up. “Why did the swordking bury his blade in golden sand?”

Kara glanced at Byn. Byn shrugged. “Never heard that one. What’s the joke?”

“I don’t know,” Trell said. “I can’t remember.”

Kara snickered, and Byn chuckled and rolled his eyes. That settled things with his memory for the moment. They would all find answers when they finally reached Tarna.

They moved into rolling hills thick with tall grass, sticking to the smooth road. The bordering grass had grown as high as the horses’ flanks, and any manner of predator or game hole could be hiding in its stalks. That made the hairs on Trell’s neck stand on end.

“Are you certain it is wise to follow this road in darkness?”

Kara’s eyes widened above her veil. “Right. I should have asked. With your permission, may I scribe some glyphs?”

Trell nodded. Kara drew two glyphs on the pad strapped to her wrist and then drew a third directly in front of him, floating in the air. The air around Trell flared bright white.

Trell’s eyes snapped shut. When he opened them he rode in daylight, though the sky remained dark and filled with stars. He closed his mouth when Byn glanced back and chuckled.

“There’s that fish on the hook again.”

“This is more of your magic?”

“It’s a Glyphbinder trick,” Byn said. “Theotrix mixed with Flaryen. A great hawk’s sight mixed with firefly’s light!”

And what a mix that was. The surreal daylight gave the grass a rippling sheen. It stretched around them as far as Trell could see, swaying in the gentle wind. The closed blossoms of wildflowers bobbed in the sea of grass.

Trell had visited the ocean. He had found its motion soothing, and this place soothed him as well. Another tantalizing trace of memory from the void inside his head, fascinating and infuriating at the same time. When would he finally recover his memories?

Byn glanced at him, then at Kara. “I’m going to see how Sera is doing. You be careful with this woman, Trell. She’s been known to flip men on their heads.”

Kara all but lunged off her horse in her attempt to punch his arm. Byn sidestepped his mount away and chortled. By the time he dropped back beside Trell, Byn wore a huge grin.

Kara raised an eyebrow and pointed a finger at them both, clutching the peach core in her other hand. “I know one man who better check his bedroll every night from here on in.”

“You heard her.” Byn patted Trell’s shoulder. “If you see her lying in your bedroll, you’ll have no choice but to—”

He yelped as Kara’s peach core smacked into the side of his head. “I yield! I surrender!” His gelding dropped back as Kara readied a fresh peach.

“Well,” she said with a huff. “I hope Sera gives him an earful for leaving her alone in that wagon all this time.”

“What about Jair?” Trell glanced at the wagon. “Last I saw him, he seemed in a trance. Is he all right?”

Kara dropped the uneaten peach back into her bag. “Bring that sweet mare up beside me. I promise I won’t flip you on your head.”

Trell hurried Chesa up until he rode behind and to the left of Kara’s gelding. “That trance is an aspect of Jair’s magic?” It pleased him how Chesa matched pace with a larger horse.

“He is a Soulmage,” Kara agreed. When Trell just stared blankly, she continued.

“Soul glyphs come as easy to him as breath comes to you and me, but such familiarity comes with a cost. Jair is probably as close to the other side as any mortal can be, in this life. Sometimes, at night, I wonder if he sees us at all.”

“Soul glyphs,” Trell pressed.

“Most souls leave our world as they found it, but some … grow attached. All our glyphs draw power from somewhere. My Hands of Life, for example, draw power from the Five. Soul glyphs come from the impression brave or stubborn souls left as they departed. They clung to life so hard, they left claw marks when they crossed.”

Trell watched the side of Kara’s hood.

“Some, like Braun, died before they could finish their greatest work. He sought to finish his last great sculpture even as he slipped through to the other side. Others, like the Adynshak, clung to life for different reasons. They were five brave Tellvan swordkings, masters of bladed combat, who were forced to murder their own mad king for the good of all Tellvan. For the entire Northern Alliance.”

“Tellvan,” Trell said. “With whom you are now at war.”

“Tellvan wasn’t always against us. They were a firm ally in the All Province War, even after Metla Tassau’s dark glyphs drove Sheik Jenver insane. They tied up half the Tassaun calvary in the Broken Desert. Turns out armored horses do poorly on sand.”

“Interesting. If I may ask, have you always had orange eyes? Or is that some aspect of your study at Solyr?”

Kara coughed and shifted in her saddle. “You could put it that way. I made a glyph — my own glyph — by mixing and matching elements of others. I got the intent right but the color wrong.”

“Is making new glyphs a requirement for students at Solyr?”

“It’s outright forbidden. Only elders are allowed to create new glyphs. I wasn’t supposed to do it, and I should have been expelled for doing it, but it just seemed so natural to me.” Kara chuckled and sighed. “I’m lucky I didn’t burn my eyes out.”

“So you did something that only elders are supposed to do, and you did that as an initiate. That’s impressive.”

“Is it? You can see how well it turned out.” Kara pointed at her eyes. “These were supposed to be blue.”

“So the change is permanent?”

“Not really, but I like it. I keep them orange as a reminder, a warning to all about the perils of unsanctioned study.” Her smile grew. “Or maybe I just like sticking out in a crowd.”

Trell chuckled. “You’d stick out in any crowd, Kara.”

“Would I, now?” She huffed and looked ahead. “Well then. I didn’t realize I was so hideous.”

“Wait, that’s not what…” Trell winced and clenched his reins. “You’re not hideous, not remotely. I just meant—”

Kara laughed, a merry sound. She reached out from her horse and punched his arm. She landed a good solid blow.

“The faces you make might be the most adorable thing about you. I’m teasing you. Let me. This is going to be a very long trip.”

Trell forced himself to relax. He felt as if he had always had trouble socially, making comments at the wrong times, saying things in the wrong way … yet how could he remember that without remembering circumstances, people, thoughts?

“You’re not going to throw a peach at me, are you?”

“I keep those for Byn, dear heart. Five know he’s earned his share of them.”

They talked more as they rode on, and Kara’s tales of Solyr were quite entertaining. Like the time Byn “accidentally” attracted a horde of grasshoppers into Bloodmender class. Or the time Kara snuck into the men’s dorm and planted a cloud trap above Aryn’s door, drenching him the moment he emerged. Or Jair calling up a spirit that kept pulling everyone’s hair.

Solyr’s students had a strange life that was full of wonder, and they were safe and loved. Trell almost felt jealous. The moon was just setting when they finally reached the Brecken Woods.

The oaks of the Brecken Woods bore rough gray bark shadowed by the false light of Kara’s glyphs. Menacing. Dead leaves gathered at the base of the trees like piles of ash.

Trell rubbed his eyes. “Are your glyphs wearing off?”

“No, but it’s a right gloomy sight. There’s a small stream just inside the tree line. We’ll water the horses and make camp there.”

“And your guard? Who takes the first watch?”

Kara arched one eyebrow at him. “You’re really looking forward to watching me sleep, aren’t you?”

Trell felt a hot blush and studied his mare’s neck. “We should take nothing for granted. That mage could still be out there.”

“He just caught me by surprise. You’re with a dyn now. We’ll set up a warning bubble around our camp before bedding down. Anything enters our bubble that doesn’t belong there, we’ll feel it.”

“You’re certain that’s sufficient?”

“Absolutely certain. I know you think protecting me is up to you alone, but you need to trust me to protect myself. Many things we carry are valuable, but we rarely worry about bandits. You know why they don’t rob us? Because it goes badly for them, every time.”

“Magical defenses for tonight then.” Even so, Trell would sleep lightly.

Kara pulled back her veil. “Good. I want to get everyone bedded down fast. That way, Byn won’t notice the crushed peach.”

“The one you threw at him?”

“The one he’s going to find jammed in his bedroll. With some apple cores. And some crumbs.”

“Kara!” Jair yelled from the wagon. “Are we going in?”

Kara waved them closer. “Camp inside the trees!”

Byn poked his head out of the side of the wagon, his veil trailing in the wind. The lights of the wagon highlighted his bright smile. “How many bedrolls will you need?”

“You know,” Kara said, glancing at Trell. “I think I’ll grind some lantern grease into his hair as well. Just so we’re clear.”

THEIR ONLY TROUBLE CAME after watering and settling the horses. Aryn refused to be satisfied with the fire, claiming it was too small and too cold. He stalked into the woods and soon returned, claiming he couldn’t find any decent firewood.

Trell had no sooner offered his help before Aryn accepted, and Trell suspected he knew why. Aryn led him through the woods to a pile of tinder that would easily keep them warm through the chill dawn. He’d piled it up against an old oak.

“Firewood,” Trell said.

“A necessary deception.” Aryn motioned Trell to a bent old birch and propped his pack against the wood. “Please. Sit.”

Trell did that. Aryn sat as well, resting his back against the oak. He pulled back his veil.

“I was very rude earlier, and for no good reason. Will you accept my apology?”

“Of course.”

“Forgiveness is a virtue, one Kara could stand to learn. It started with a pair of unruly fledglings, bastards who got it into their heads to ‘teach that arrogant noble a lesson.’ So, they tried. It didn’t end well. I taught them a lesson instead.”

“That started your rivalry with Kara?”

“One of those bastards was Byn.”

“Ah.” It all made sense now. “And that was…?”

“Eight years ago next month.”

“Perhaps Kara has forgiven you. She did invite you to join her dyn.”

“And saved my life. I know. It’s all very touching.” Aryn stared at the wood. “I almost wish she’d let me die.”

Trell pulled back his veil and said nothing. Silence made people talk.

“And so I am obligated to give Kara any help she needs for as long as she lives. That’s no decree of my father’s. It’s mine. I made the law on my tenth birthday.”

“Is that normal for men of your station? Making laws?”

“Sometimes. Father had all his sons make one decree when they reached ten. It would apply to them and them alone, teaching them what it means to both lead and to obey. I took a simple vow. Help whoever saves my life for as long as that person lives.”

Trell nodded. “Very noble.”

“Are you joking? It was ludicrous.” Aryn shook his head. “Too many stories of heroes in my youth.”

“How is that ludicrous?”

“Every starving beggar in the city would follow me around, waiting for an opportunity to ‘save my life.’ Then they’d stop waiting. Then they’d make an opportunity.”

Trell almost smiled. Some might call that cynical thinking, but he would call it realistic. “Does Kara know about this decree?”

“I haven’t told her, but I will, some day, when she’s ready to hear it. I don’t think she’d ever accept me as an ally. We competed too fiercely at Solyr.”

“Perhaps you judge her poorly.”

“Perhaps I judge her right. Kara knows I despised her but doesn’t know why. She doesn’t know that she took just about everything I ever wanted away. She ruined my life, and I hated her for it.”

“Do you still?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I can convince her
of that. To be honest, I really don’t see the need.”

“If you truly want to protect her, you must gain her trust.”

“And what, Trell, makes you think I came on this journey to protect Kara?”

Trell frowned. “You just said you did.”

“No, what I said is I’ll do whatever I can to help her. I didn’t need to come on this journey to do that. Kara’s probably better off without me along.”

“Then why come at all?”

“Aren’t mysteries fun?” Aryn pushed up and brushed off his cloak. “Like you. You’re a mystery. A keen-eyed swordmaster who can’t remember his past. Some bard should write a song.”

Trell didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Anyway,” Aryn said, “for now, I just want to talk. The others all hate me now, even Jair, who claimed to be my friend. You’re different. You’re a soldier.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Of course we do. Draw your sword.” Aryn reached back and unslung his quarterstaff.

Trell stood and raised his hands. “I’ve no wish to fight you.”

“Ha!” Aryn’s laugh was warm and honest. “I’d not dare challenge you. Draw your sword and tell me how it feels.”

Keeping his eyes on Aryn, Trell pulled at his thick cloak until he could reach his weapon. It wasn’t easy, and he decided he would carry it openly from this moment forward. He drew the blade and found himself in an ideal stance at once.

“It feels … right.”

“I’d imagine so. Now sheath it and take my staff. Go ahead.”

More curious than anything, Trell did as Aryn suggested. Sheathing the blade was as easy as breathing, even with the clumsy robe. Aryn handed him his quarterstaff, a magnificent weapon that glistened white in the moonlight. It was heavier than Trell expected.

“Take a swing with it,” Aryn said. “Knock in some heads.”

Trell moved and swung, but the effort felt clumsy and wrong. He took a different grip and tried again. Aryn snatched the staff from his hands, spun it, and stopped it a hand’s length from Trell’s head. It all happened very fast.

“That’s what an unfamiliar weapon feels like. Were you a farmer, or a merchant, or some courier, you wouldn’t have any idea what to do with that sword. You’d use a quarterstaff or a club like everyone else on the road.” Aryn lowered his staff. “You’re a soldier. It’s as obvious as the nose on your face.”

“I think you’re right.”

“That’s just what I like to hear. We’ll get along famously!” Aryn thumped him on the back and Trell found he didn’t mind. Talking with Aryn like this felt familiar. Like they were soldiers together.

“I’ve had one soldier or another watching over me for most of my life, at least until Father sent me away to Solyr.” Aryn slung his staff across his back and looked away again, at the trees clustered around them. At the dark.

“Is it not an honor to school at Solyr?”

“Oh, it is, for those who merit it. My blood was barely as potent as the weakest Solyr fledgling. Father’s money pushed me in. With my two older brothers squabbling over the estate, becoming the royal apprentice was my only chance to make myself worthy in my father’s eyes. My last chance. And I ruined it.”

Trell opened his mouth to sympathize, but Aryn cut him off before he could. It seemed Trell’s words behind the wagon had unleashed a torrent of unburdening. Aryn really was desperate for a friend, and Trell almost felt guilty about manipulating him.

“Do you know what it’s like to fail at every task you’re given? Father sent me into that. I was top of my classes in Locke, even when I was young. I’ve always strived to learn, but at Solyr, I could barely keep up with the weakest of students. My blood simply wasn’t made to evoke glyphs like theirs.”

Trell squeezed Aryn’s shoulder. That seemed right. Aryn needed someone to sympathize and that might as well be him.

“Kara knows it, too. Everything comes so easily to her. The power in her blood is leagues beyond the rest of us, and she makes sure we know it. She makes sure I know it.”

“She does not seem like one who would lord her power over others. Are you sure you aren’t projecting your feelings onto her?”

Aryn laughed. “Maybe I am. I don’t care anymore. I fought harder than anyone for the post the elders set aside for her. I trained day and night for years, barely sleeping, until I had learned to scribe the glyphs that came so easily to others. I would finally make my father proud. Instead, I’ve just disappointed him again.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because he didn’t need a third son. Because he never wanted me. All I am is one more hand clutching at his gold.”

“You should give Kara a chance. Talk to her about this.”

“I might,” Aryn agreed. “Some day. I wish I could just hate her, but hating her terrifies me.”

“How so?”

“That glyph in my head. It made all I felt toward Kara burn ten times as hot. The attacker used a demon glyph, Trell, and one of the worst. The glyph of Balazel, Prince of Pain.”

The ancient demon’s name sent a shiver down Trell’s spine, even without knowing the context. The name just sounded
wrong
. If soul glyphs were what desperate souls left as they crossed, as Kara had told him, what did that make demon glyphs?

“Balazel hates like nothing our world has ever known, and I felt that hate. I hated Kara with a demon’s hate, and once you hate like that you can never be whole again.”

Trell waited, and when no more unburdening came he took the opening. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It fits with the wreck I’ve made of my life. I can’t even think of hating Kara now. I’m afraid that if I do, even for a moment, Balazel will take my mind again.”

Trell thumped his shoulder. “You seem too strong for that. Only a fool would sell himself so short.”

Aryn smiled. “There was another who often spoke to me as you do, as a fellow man and a foolish one at that. He was my father’s sage. That’s why I like you. You speak your mind.”

“I do not claim to be a sage, but I am always willing to listen.”

“And I am always willing to talk.” Aryn pulled on his pack and picked up as much wood as he could manage. “As you’ve probably figured out by now.”

“I don’t mind listening.” Trell picked up his share as well.

“Good, because you’ll probably be doing a lot of that on this trip. I don’t know if I’ll return to Solyr after we reach Tarna. I don’t know what I plan to do now.”

“You graduated, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I haven’t found a mentor. I graduated last in my school, and there’s only so much call for certified Firebrands. The only place I’d find employment is in the army, and I’d rather not burn people to death for a living.” He winced when he said that. “No offense.”

“None taken,” Trell assured him. They were making good time back to the camp, to the others, so he slowed just a bit.

“Anyway…” Aryn hesitated, glancing around, “I’d like to gather firewood tomorrow as well, if you’re willing. I plan to help Kara however I can. If she won’t take that help or consider my advice, I’m hoping she’ll at least listen to you.”

“Of course.” Trell found Aryn easy to read, and he read nothing of treachery or ill will. “Though the others may begin to wonder at your ability to see in the dark.”

Aryn chuckled as they approached the flickering campfire. “They’ve wondered far worse.”

THE FEEL OF TRELL’S HAND gently squeezing her shoulder woke Kara at noon. He was already walking away when she stretched, yawning loudly. She felt like she had not slept at all, and despite the transfusion she had received at Solyr she still felt weaker than normal. She knew it would be another day before she fully recovered from her fight in Solyr’s central square.

Dreams had plagued her all night. In some of them Aryn chased her, his eyes glowing with flame. In others, an invisible man had her by the throat. The worst were the ones where Trell followed her, begging her to give him his memories back.

Kara knew what these dreams were — nerves, brought on by worries about the Tellvan battlemage who wanted to kidnap her. Even so, fitful sleep annoyed her at the best of times. If the dreams continued, she would ask Sera for a glyph to stop them.

Kara felt for the bulk of the Thinking Tree’s acorn inside her robe, in the pouch inside her shirt. She had slept with it, not daring to remove the pouch for even a moment. She had dug it up in the few moments she had to herself before they left Solyr.

The ground remains of the other reagents were in the pouch as well — a boar’s heart, the wing of a dead fairy, and a
kir
root. If anyone found them, Kara would simply say they were a present for Adept Anylus. That seemed as elegant a lie as any, but really, she saw no reason anyone would be getting inside her shirt.

Birdsong was rampant. The air felt chill in comparison to her warm bedroll, but Kara wriggled out of it and stood, her leg muscles tight and sore. She tightened her cloak, pulled on her boots, and donned her suffocating veil. She hated how it itched at her nose.

Byn stoked the fire as Jair tended a cooking frame over the fire pit, and the enticing aroma of meat strips opened Kara’s eyes. She quickly discovered they tasted even better than they smelled. She was going to miss academy food, but she supposed Tarna would be just as nice. Eating was a simple pleasure she had always enjoyed.

Soon they were riding again, the morning’s meal heavy in her stomach. Kara led the way on Charger, a dark gelding of which she was already quite fond. Aryn sat half-slumped in Spirit’s saddle, barely awake, and Kara wondered if his dreams had matched hers.

She took to the dream world often, wary of bandits. She searched for human life hiding behind trees or in the carpets of reddish-brown leaves, just one more reason few people robbed mages. That, and the fact that they sometimes got their faces burned off.

Despite their careful pace, they were making good time through the Brecken Woods. The sun had descended halfway to the horizon when they exited the easy, well-worn path. Kara yawned and rubbed at her dry, itching eyes. She looked forward to sleeping again.