The Forgotten King (Korin's Journal) (38 page)

Max looked at the Reservoir with curiosity on his fuzzy face.  “What is that?”

“This is a Reservoir.  It stores magic energy.  You simply need to draw the energy from a source and channel it into the Reservoir in order to fill it.  It can hold more than you could typically draw from any single source,” Ithan explained. 

I could hear the excitement in his voice as he taught Max about the Reservoir.  There was definitely a difference in how he spoke when it involved teaching.  Also, I was once again surprised that there was another magic-related topic Max knew nothing about. 

Max’s beady eyes widened, setting a record for the number of times I’d seen him awed in a single day. 
“Amazing.  Though, where I come from, such a device would not be necessary.”  Ithan’s face scrunched up in question.  “I will have to explain it to you another day, Ithan.” 

Max scampered forward and took the chain attached to the Reservoir in his teeth.  He dragged the Reservoir back to me, placing one paw on it and another on my hand.  In a flash, memories came pouring into my head in crystal-clear vision like water bursting through a dam.  Many brought pain along with them, but I wanted to be able to continue my detailed record of my travels. 

Ithan set up his own spot to sleep by the fire.  With no bedrolls and a limited number of blankets, the fire would go a long way in helping us fall asleep in the cold.

“Tomorrow, I will tell you everything,” Max assured me as he curled up before me, the Reservoir still in his paws. 

“Sure you will,” I said with a big, dopey grin and a healthy dose of sarcasm.  “I’ve heard that one before.”

With a shake of his head and a twitching of his round ears, Max let out one of his classic huffs. 
“Lunkhead.”

Chapter 31

Parting Is Such Bittersweet Sorrow

The next morning was bittersweet. 

It was also really cold.  The first straying snowflakes of the season had begun to fall, unable to reach their destination as they swirled and looped on erratic wind currents.  There was an unexplainable beauty to their graceful dance. 

We were finally about to set out for Gualain.  I didn’t know if Raijom or my father would actually be there; Max had already indicated that he didn’t believe they would be.  No matter Max’s doubts, though, between Briscott naming Gualain’s king to be Galvin Lemweir and the familiar voice from the shadowy apparition, I knew there had to be some connection between my father and Gualain.  And, unless Menar had lied, I knew Raijom had his own connection as well.  I was terrified about what truths I’d discover once in the war-torn kingdom, but in order to ensure Sal’s safety, get some closure, and possibly even stop Raijom and the
war, I didn’t have any choice but to go. 

Max would soon be revealing the secrets he’d held from me for the entire eighteen years that he’d been in my life.  To say I was excited about the prospect would be selling my emotions short.  There are no words to describe how I felt.  Well, maybe giddy is fitting enough.

Along with my excitement for answers and potential closure came the realization that it was time to part ways with Til’.  The fact that the separation was presumably temporary didn’t make accepting it any easier.  Til’ would be going to the Snowy Waste, a land uninhabitable by humans, a land filled with the dragons who’d been banished there. 

I couldn’t stop troubling questions from plaguing my thoughts.  Would Til’ survive the journey through the Glacial Mountains?  Would the dragons in the Snowy Waste be as accepting of outsiders as Bhaliel had?  What would be their reaction to news of Bhaliel’s death?  Would Til’s return of Xalis reveal that the barrier imprisoning the dragons in the Snowy Waste had been breached?  If so, would that lead to the dragons’ return, which could possibly start a war stemmed from fear? 

With what I was soon to face, I didn’t know if I’d even live long enough to ever get answers to those questions.

We spent the morning preparing for our journey.  Ithan explained to Til’ that the barrier would not prohibit his entry into Snowy Waste; the barrier was connected to the magic of the dragons, not humans or Kolari. 
In theory, at least.  Ithan also informed us that we’d be leaving the two smaller abelyr boxes behind.  Saiyre was apparently going to send out for them to ensure their return to the Wizard Academy.  He was probably going to be upset that we kept the larger one.  I was okay with that.

Max modified the Reservoir’s leather thong into
a  holster of sorts, wrapping it snuggly around each shoulder with the Reservoir resting on his back.  After insulting Ithan with an insinuation that he wanted to use Fleet to fill it, he spent some time searching for sources of magic energy, finding only a couple of field mice.  Still, Max found himself with more magic energy on hand than he’d been used to in a long time. 

We all dragged our feet, taking our time in eating our breakfasts—except for Max’s ravenous devouring of the last meat roll—and getting our supplies packed.  Each of us had strong reasons for setting out, but equally strong reasons to dread doing so.  Our resolve could only do so much to mask our trepidation. 

But eventually, everything was packed.  The horses were fed.  We were fed.  We were freshened up.  There was no delaying the inevitable any longer.

Til’ stood beside the horse he’d named Ghalen, after the Kolarin god of safe travels.  I won’t even make fun of that one; a god of safe travels seems a hell of a lot more useful than some of the gods and goddesses outside the Kolarin roster.

I leaned down and embraced Til’, finding my eyes to be wet.  Blinking away my tears, I whispered, “You be careful, Til’.”  Part of me wanted to go with him, to make sure he made it safely through the mountains and into the Snowy Waste.  My path lay elsewhere, though.  That meant that I had to tuck away my worry for him and try to focus on my own journey.  I knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“I’ll be fine,” Til’ assured me, leaning back to reveal his own moist eyes.  That was all he said before turning to his horse.  His succinctness betrayed his lack of confidence in his claim.

“Wait, Til’,” I said as I suddenly remembered a promise I’d given him long before.  I fished my Contract out of one of Telis’s saddlebags.  “Max, come here.  It’s time to get rid of this thing.” 

Max grunted from several paces away and walked up, stopping by my feet.  “You would think I was at your beck and call or something,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Are you sure, Korin?” Til’ asked.

“I promised you I would,” I replied.  I crouched and held the Contract out to Max.  “Max, would you do me this honor?”

“After the whole Galius debacle, I would be more than happy to,” Max answered. 

Ithan stepped forward.  “Wait, if you are just going to do that, you should give it to the Academy,” he protested. 

“Sorry, Ithan,” I apologized.  “The world is better off without it.” 

”But,” Ithan began, but he simply sighed, regret reflecting in his amber eyes as he looked down at the Contract.

“Do it, Max,” I commanded.

Max closed his eyes, and the Contract began to burn, Lyrak’s dragon-head emblem blackening along with the cloth.  With Contracts only being vulnerable to magic, if I’d thrown it into a fire, nothing would’ve happened.  With Max’s conjured fire, however, it burned as any other cloth would.  In short order, it was reduced to gray ash blowing into the wind to join the meandering snowflakes.

“Thanks, Korin,” Til’ said deferentially.  “This truly means a lot to me.”  Til’ threw his arms around me tightly once more before stepping up onto Ghalen’s stirrup.

“Think nothing of it.”  I reached up to help lift
Til’ onto the saddle.  His feet didn’t even reach the stirrups once he was properly mounted.  “We’ll all be keeping an eye out for you once we’re in Gualain.  In the meantime, I’ll have this to protect me,” I added, pulling the Vesteir-sigiled fortune block out from under my shirt and giving Til’ a grateful smile.

Briscott mirrored my action.  “May Loranis watch over you,” Briscott said, holding his own fortune block tightly. 

Max, standing by my feet, was dry-washing his face with his forepaws.  At a prod from the toe of my boot, he jerked his head up.  “You will be fine.  You have not let this lunkhead get you killed yet, so I have faith in your capability.  Just try not to get eaten.”  He finished by flashing me an annoyed glare before going back to dry-washing his face. 

Ithan remained silent but gave Til’ a resolute nod. 

Til’ flashed us a toothy smile, but his eyes seemed sad.  He tucked his hair behind his ears as the cold wind buffeted us.  “Max, Korin, Briscott, Ithan. . . be safe.  We’ll be back together before you know it.”  His eyes betrayed him, a tear sliding down his cheek.  He kicked Ghalen’s flank, prodding the horse forward. 

And that was it.  Til’ was gone.  No fanfare.  No drawn-out goodbyes.  No Kolarin rambling. 
Just a simple, clean severance.  On one hand, drawing it out would’ve made for a more poignant goodbye, in case this was the last time we’d ever see each other.  On the other, it would’ve been an admission that not seeing each other again was all too real a possibility.

Somberly, I mounted Telis, Ithan mounted Windmane, and Briscott mounted his gray mare.  Max joined me on my shoulder.

“We can fall back from the others for a while so that we can talk in private,” Max suggested.

“Maybe we should wait until we set up camp tonight,” I replied, numbly watching Til’ disappear over the crest of a tall hill on his way to the Snowy Waste.  He’d be to the Glacial Mountains before nightfall.  “I have a feeling that I’ll need to be sitting down for what you have to tell me.”

Max exhaled sharply.  “You
are
sitting.” 

“You know what I mean,” I replied with a roll of my eyes. 

In all truthfulness, I was starting to realize just how nervous about learning of my past I’d grown.  I’d spent so many years wanting to know Max’s secrets, but now that they were in front of me for the taking, I feared what I would learn.  I know that it seems kind of ridiculous, but by waiting until we camped that night, I’d be able to take the day to wind down from the excitement I’d been through the day before, and mentally prepare for what Max had to say.  Sometimes a mind can only handle so much.

“Suit yourself.  I could use some sleep anyway,” Max said. 

“It’s morning,” I argued. 

Max dropped from my shoulder and curled up before me on the saddle. 
“And?”

I chuckled and kicked Telis into a moderate trot towards Ithan and Briscott.  As I approached, Sal’ entered my thoughts.  I could still remember how excited I’d been at the prospect of finding her again, to tell her I that loved her.  Now I had no idea what I would do. 

Did I still love her?  Did it matter if I did?  I had a few weeks of travel ahead of me to mull those questions over before they needed answering.  All I knew for sure was that I’d make sure she was okay.  Even if we could never be together, I preferred her be safe and sound with Saiyre over being hurt or killed by the monsters in Gualain.  Of course, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t still hurting at the idea that she’d end up with him. 

“You two ready?” I asked.  I was answered by two determined nods, and we started out.  After what had felt like an eternity, I was finally on my way to Gualain.

Chapter 32

The Truth . . . and It’s
About Time

Our first day of travel was fairly uneventful.  Ithan took a while to warm up to Briscott’s extroverted, friendly personality.  Once he did, though, they swapped stories about their time in Gualain, Ithan’s strange laughter flaring often.  Max and I reminisced about some of our old days as well, days when life was simpler. 

Strangely, Briscott would occasionally find reasons to ride ahead or lag behind throughout the day.  On top of that, he at times seemed a little too happy.  Does that even make sense? 

I wrote off Briscott’s periods of isolation to his desire for having some time alone and his boost in happiness to the fact that he was being given the chance to avenge his family.  I’d later discover that I was very wrong

After setting up camp, Max and I declared that we’d take the first watch.  Though we were still in Tahron, and at least a day or two from entering Naolim, we made the collective decision to keep a nightly watch as we grew closer to Gualain.  We weren’t certain how far the fighting had spread now that wizards had entered the war.  We didn’t want to find ourselves swept up by a passing army.  Plus, this gave Max and me a chance to talk alone.

The Glacial Mountains were hidden behind a diamond-speckled blanket, the crescent moon like the half-open eye of a god watching over Max and me as we sat on a rock outcropping overlooking a large lake.  The moon reflected across the lake’s wind-rippled surface.  Briscott and Ithan were sleeping well enough away for us to have complete privacy. 

The damp breeze and vast expanse of water beneath my dangling feet brought thoughts of the ocean to mind, providing me with the calm I needed to finally hear the truth.  My lantern illuminated Max’s somber form beside me.  With my cloak wrapped around my shoulders and my hood raised, I was finally ready to learn about Max’s past.  About
my
past.

Max solemnly stared out across the lake.  The Reservoir on his back shone with a translucent blue radiance.  “You know, a part of me thought I would never tell you all of this.  There was a time when I had lost hope, when I had truly believed that my life would be spent watching you grow up on that farm.”  He shook his head and looked up at me.  “I must start this with a heartfelt apology.”

I licked my dry lips to work up some moisture.  “It’s okay, Max.”

“No, I do not believe it is,” he replied.  “I told you before that my secrecy was for your own good.  When I really think about it, I realize that it was actually more for my own.”  He paused for a moment.  The chill breeze picked up as if to prod him to speak.  “I only ask that you allow me to speak this out.  I know you will have questions, but I ask that they wait.”

“Okay.”  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.  My heart began to race, and my body trembled from more than just the cold. 

“What I have to tell you starts well before your birth,” he began.

“All right, let’s hear it,” I replied with a shaky smile, my breath misting before my lips.

Another pause followed, and then Max started with what I’d been waiting my entire life to hear.  “The first thing you need to know is that you are not from Amirand.  You are from a land called Paigea.”

My insides knotted at Max’s words.  I had come from a land outside of Amirand, a land I’d never even heard of.  A land that maybe
no one
in Amirand had ever heard of.  “Is that why I’ve heard you refer to Amirand as ‘this world’?” I asked numbly.

“It seems that we have different ideas about the concept of holding off on questions,” Max admonished.

“Sorry,” I apologized.  “It’s just . . . it’s just that I’ve been waiting so long, and I want to know everything.

Max stepped around the lantern and stood on his hind legs, placing a paw on my knee.  “I know,” he told me with sincere understanding in his eyes.

Max dropped back down beside me.  “I suppose it is possible that Paigea is another world—another plane of existence.  More likely, with Paigea having similar races and languages, it simply lies beyond the Dyanac Ocean or the eastern fringe of Amirand.  Beyond the storms.  Paigea is also enclosed by such storms, another factor leading me to believe that both Paigea and Amirand share a common world.  Since physically passing through the storms is impossible, I have no way to know for sure.  Still, I should probably refer to them as lands instead of as worlds in themselves.”

My mind was sent reeling.  Was Amirand merely a part of a larger world?  Were the storms that were generally viewed as the ends of creation nothing more than a barrier separating Amirand from something more?  The implications of such an idea were staggering.  Even if I had wanted to ask questions, about it, I wouldn’t have even known where to start.

“Paigea is nearly the size of Amirand, and your father, Galvin Lemweir, is its Prime Sovereign.  I guess it would be more appropriate for your understanding to say that your father rules over all of Paigea.  The land is separated into kingdoms much like Amirand, each ruled by a king or queen who, though generally having autonomous reign over his or her realm, is under your father’s general rule.” 

It felt as if everything around me faded to nothing, that all sound had been absorbed into the night.  My father ruled an entire land, an entire collection of kingdoms.  Needless to say, I was completely taken aback.

Max continued as if he hadn’t just clobbered me with a massively transcendent revelation.  “Paigea’s history is one of great and terrible wars, thousands of years without true peace.  The idea of a Prime Sovereign was born from a desire to end such dark times by placing Paigea under common rule, pressing accountability onto the kings and queens of the land. 

“Your father became the fifth Prime Sovereign after the untimely death of your grandfather and namesake, Ingran Lemweir.  His reign inherited an era of peace that began with your ancestors over a century before.  Your father took to the position with pride and honor, and I knew him as a great ruler. 
A great man.”

My heart swelled with pride at Max’s words.  I couldn’t help myself but ask, “And my mother?”

Max smiled as he stared out over the moonlit water.  “Your mother, Kailyth, much like your father, is strong and honorable.  As you have seen in your dreams, she is beautiful, her beauty only matched by her strength of heart.”

My eyes stung as the bitter cold swept across the tears that began to well in them.

“Korin, this may be difficult for you to hear, but her brother was the head of your father’s personal guard.”  Max tightly shut his eyes, letting out a deep breath.  “His name was Menar Ulrin.”

My throat tightened, making it hard to breathe.  “You don’t mean . . .” 

“Korin, Menar was your uncle.”

Max was right.  That
was
hard for me to hear.  Menar had tried to kill me.  He’d changed sides before his death, but I couldn’t fathom why he’d want to kill his own nephew in the first place. 

“But why did he—”

“I will get there,” Max assured me, cutting me off.  “Though I would love to tell you more about Paigea and your family now, I believe that doing so will have to wait.  For now, there are more important matters to discuss.  First of which, as you have probably guessed, I used to be human.  My name was—is—Jonasir Spensolin, and I was a wizard under the employ of your father, along with Raijom Weist.”

I’m going to have to skip over the million emotions that barraged me each time Max revealed new information.  Otherwise, I’ll never finish writing this.  Let me just say that I wouldn’t have been surprised if my heart had stopped beating for the duration of Max’s story.  At least I’d been prepared for the admission of his prior humanity and his connection to my parents.  The part about Raijom, however, that was a different story entirely. 

“I was an advisor to your father and his father before him.  Raijom was a prophet, an extremely rare ability in Paigea, just as in Amirand.  For years, we worked well together, aiding your father with the synergistic combination of his prophecies and my counsel.  You could even say we were friends.

“Raijom was a powerful wizard, ambitious in terms of developing his strength in magic.  He was skilled in many areas, not just prophecy, and was stronger than I in most.  In all my years, Prexwin has been the only wizard I have seen with a similar level of magic ability, though I find it hard to judge the wizards I have encountered in Amirand since magic works differently in Paigea.”

“How is it different?” I asked, trying to ignore the painful memories that tried to surface at the mention of Prexwin’s name.

Max’s eyes narrowed sharply, as if annoyed by my interruption, but he proceeded to answer my question.  “As you know, in Amirand, magic energy can only be drawn from living beings through touch.  In Paigea, however, magic can be drawn freely from the environment without the need for physical contact.  Essentially, magic energy emanates from all organic materials—whether grass, soil, trees, or animals—and floats freely throughout Paigea.  It can theoretically be used in limitless quantities.  The only restrictive factors lie in a wizard’s inherent magical power and their stamina in directing magic energy. 

“This emanation of magic energy does not occur in Amirand, and that is why it must be drawn specifically from living beings here.  The energy still technically exists in the same sources as in Paigea, such as grass and soil, but is contained within those sources and not in great enough amounts to be of any use.  My guess is that the evolution of life and magic took different paths in Paigea and Amirand, leading to this difference.”

Max let out a deep sigh.  “As I mentioned, Raijom was ambitious.  He was always looking for ways to expand his abilities.  Nearly every spare moment he possessed was spent researching different forms of magic.  Sometimes we would even do research and experiments together.  In fact, it was during those times that I discovered the process of soul transference which, as you have witnessed, has allowed me to live when I should have died. 

“One day, Raijom called me down to his private study.  He sent me a message saying he had discovered something incredible, something that would have untold implications for magic usage.  I remember the feeling of excitement as I went to meet him.”  Max dropped his head, closing his eyes.  “If only I had known what I was about to learn.”

“Max . . .”

Max silenced me with a shake of his head.  “Raijom was ecstatic about his discovery.  He had identified a new form of magic energy, a form that could only be drawn from a human body at its precise moment of death.  He had discovered negative energy.”

“
Wait, wouldn’t that make him a murderer?” I cut in, unable to restrain myself.  I couldn’t suppress the biting anger in my voice.  My heart was slamming into my ribs, my face heating.  “Why would Raijom have been allowed to serve under my father when he was a murderer?” 

Max had once explained to me that negative energy could only be drawn from beings of intellect at the exact moment of their death.  The caveat was that the death had to be at the hands of the one drawing the energy.  If Raijom had figured out how to employ negative energy, then he must’ve killed another human to do so. 

Max eyes snapped up to me, concerned.  I then realized that I had been screaming at him.  I lowered my eyes, taking a deep, calming breath.  “I’m sorry, Max.”

Max nodded slowly, eyeing me a moment longer before speaking as if to make sure I was okay.  “I should explain.  The first Prime Sovereign firmly believed in the execution of criminals who took the lives of others.  These executions were, and continue to be, performed by wizards.”

“Why wizards?”

“Although magic energy is prevalent in Paigea’s environment, it can still be drawn directly from living beings through direct physical contact, though doing so is outlawed.  As I have told you, all organic sources in Paigea, including humans, emanate magic energy in infinitesimal amounts.  All of those infinitesimal amounts add up to near-infinite levels.  Therefore, there is no need to ever draw magic energy directly from a living source.  

“Drawing magic energy from sentient beings in Paigea works the same as it does here in Amirand, with the risk of destroying the source’s sense of self or even killing them.  Wizards perform the executions by doing just that.  The magic energy drawn from their bodies is then used to either aid the families of their victims or the general population.  This aid can take many forms such as forging magic items to be sold in order to compensate the families or providing healing to those who cannot afford it.  Given that magic energy is always readily available in Paigea, the entire process is merely symbolic.  However, it is a gesture that helps to provide comfort and closure to anyone negatively affected by those executed.”

As strange as the whole concept was, it made sense. 
Kind of.  It was system of balance, bringing forth a measure of good from something undeniably evil. 

“In time, Raijom requested to participate in some of these executions.” Max continued.  “For him, it was purely academic, a means of learning more about the utilization of magic energy.  He wished to discover if there were any differences between magic energy drawn directly from humans and that drawn from the general environment.  Approaching the executions as a matter of research, he went about drawing out the magic energy methodically, and that is how he eventually discovered what he termed negative energy.”