Esra Page 4

  “When I was younger I expected them to be more like tricksters, pulling Flowers out of thin air and making mead appear in their empty cup. I figured that people with such talent would naturally want to flaunt it a bit, if only to entertain townspeople who had so little other excitement. As it turns out, they are never showy nor entertaining, and prefer to keep to themselves. They usually take dinners in their rented rooms and leave before most have a chance to muster up the courage to ask where they came from or where they’re headed. Not that they are ungrateful or unkind. In fact on rare occasions a few of them have come to the inn to enjoy an ale and join in the townsfolk’s quest for the perfect Sorley quote. No, it’s rather like they sense and understand peoples discomfort in their air of magick, and graciously take the opportunity to rest in solitude, so that no one would feel obligated to entertain them.

  “I also think it’s odd that no matter what the weather, they are always adorned in those dark blue hooded cloaks. And underneath they wear travelers’ boots and leggings, even for the women.”

  Esra envisioned the outfits that were simple but beautiful, with an intricate embroidery of vines swirling in rich gold around the cuffs and bottom hem of the soft blue cloaks.

  “I feel like relationships with the Keepers had been one of a mutually distant respect. It’s said that they generally band together in small groups and rarely live in places where non-magickal people reside. I’ve never heard of any of them living in Sorley, even in the old stories. I’ve also heard that they prefer the more rustic land, having a natural inclination towards all things of the Earth. What they do or what kind of sorcery they perform, I don’t know. Every so often someone at the Inn will have an ale too many and speculate. There are many stories that fly through the air on these nights, but none ever seemed satisfactory to me. The only thing absolutely agreed upon was that these Keepers are very important, although no one can remember exactly why.

  “Is it true that Magick was something that used to be very common generations ago? I’ve heard tell that almost every family had a relation or two that was gifted in some form of it. Some could use their skills to grow crops, settle arguments, communicate over great distances, or even see into other places and times. I believe they could even heal. And that over the years these sorcerers have become fewer and fewer until hardly any remain.”

  “And what do you think of sorcery?” Cane asked.

  “Well, sorcery is not something that most people are suspicious of, since it seems true that many had ancestors who practiced magick, but it became less important.”

  “That may be the general thinking, but what do ye think?”

  Esra brushed a strand of hair off her face as she debated whether her opinion may make her look silly. As much as she didn’t care what others thought, sometimes the desire to please her teacher overcame her candor. Then again, he was the one who brought such a topic up, so why should she be embarrassed. “Actually, I used to ask Grandmother about magick incessantly as a child. I had often wished that someone I knew was a sorcerer or had retained a few remnants of magickal ability from an ancestor. On the very few occasions that Grandmother would answer me on the subject, I remember she said that it was a practice that has been slowly forgotten. People no longer spoke about how a great aunt could start Fires instantaneously without flint or remedy a headache with a touch. She said that maybe the people of LeVara figured that the inheritance of these skills eventually declined or that the need fer it became unnecessary. There were various Herbs to heal and new tools to use in the fields, so that those magickally gifted people simply stopped practicing their craft. This theory always disappointed me, because I found it fascinating that such people had existed, still exist today in remote glimpses like the Keepers. And I can’t imagine why someone with such a skill would just stop using it.”

  Cane looked at her thoughtfully, knowing that Esra had something else to say. What she wasn’t telling him was that there was something about the topic of magick that pulled at her, and it seemed more than just her curious nature. Sometimes Esra wondered if other people secretly thought that the adventurous spirit of these traveling Keepers wasn’t just a peculiar shame but exotic and appealing. Most of the townspeople were uneasy, but Esra was enchanted. It was as if these people, these Keepers, they called to her in some way when they were near. Esra knew that didn’t make sense but the feeling was there, nonetheless. When a group of Keepers were in Sorley everyone would tell stories of the few sorcerers they had known throughout the years. Tales of healings, of people able to control Fire and move objects without the need for touch. All of it fueled Esra’s interest in magick.

  “Is that all?” Cane looked at Esra steadily, taking a small puff from his pipe.

  The thoughts swirling around her head seemed like the wild imaginings of a small child, dreaming of fancy adventures. Esra wasn’t sure how to explain herself without sounding as if her life and studies here were not enough. “There’s something about them that make me wish for something more, something my current way of life can’t provide. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or unhappy, I just can’t figure out why everything regarding magick has become so lost.”

  He paused thoughtfully. “That is a feeling I can certainly understand. Either way, it seems ye know vastly less about the topic than I thought.”

  “Less like nothing,” Esra mumbled in surprise. Cane rarely pointed out when she was oblivious to a topic they had not covered yet, as he did not expect her to have knowledge of such things. The people of Sorley were only expected to know farming and basic numbers, many could not even write. But looking back on what she had told him about the sorcerers, it did seem like the idle chatter of a superstitious housewife. Which is where most of her information on magick had come from, it was true. She hated feeling incompetent. Even though Cane was much more knowledgeable in all subjects, Esra took pride in her capacity for learning. A twinge of resentment flared as she thought of these “Keepers” and their stupid mysterious ways. Magick smagick.

  Yet Cane did not look displeased as he usually did when his student confirmed their ignorance. In fact, his demeanor hinted slightly at relief. “Good. I think it easier to teach this subject to those who have not been…corrupted by others’ opinions.”

  Underneath both her forearms a burning itch began, like a bug bite scratched too hard. She turned her hands over to see small dark red dots running up to the elbows. Cane peered down at the strange rash, and Meshok lifted her head from the rug where she was lounging.

  “Is this the first time ye’ve noticed it?” Cane asked.

  “Aye. Do ye think I got into some odd Plant?” She hadn’t been paying much attention while they were chasing the hooded man through the forest.

  He gazed at the spots again. “It won’t kill ye. It’s not common, but the Witch Hazel leaf is known to appear around these parts every few years. It’s rare, that’s all.”

  Esra shrugged and grabbed a clean sheet of parchment, all the while rubbing her arm on the side of the chair. They should call the stuff Itch Hazel, she thought miserably.

  “We will be on this topic and a few others fer at least a year,” Cane announced.

  She gaped with an open mouth, unable to hide her amazement that they would stay on a subject for more than a week.

  “But ye always say that someone should know a little about everything…”

  “Yes, yes,” he impatiently scolded. “But I respectfully ask that ye trust my judgment in the matter. We have much to do and not much time to do it.”

  “What do you mean no time? But…”

  “No buts. And there’s one more thing,” he continued, “and ye may not like it, but it is above all else the most important to remember. Ye may not ask any questions fer the first few Moons that we study. Ye’re to listen, and nothing more.”

  “The first few Moons!” Although Cane joked about her incessant questions, Esra could tell that he was pleased to have someone so interested in the things that had once con
sumed his curiosity as well. “But why?”

  He sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. “Esra, I cannot tell ye these things now. But I can say that what we will be doing is exceedingly important, and ye must be willing to trust me. I can waste no time in these next months with ye asking questions that will soon enough be answered. It is just as much a test of patience and humility as it is of intellect. I assure ye that after that time ye may ask anything ye wish of me. And I do promise to answer every one of those to the best of my ability.”

  Esra’s head was spinning with confliction over this restraining information. She paused for a moment to reflect on this. Surely this is what she had wanted all along, to dive wholeheartedly into a topic. Really master something. She could argue, but she knew that it wouldn’t do any good. He had obviously made up his mind, and when Cane didn’t want to speak any more on a subject, it was best just to give in. This would be the second argument she lost today after her grandmother, and Esra was starting to feel exasperated at her lack of conviction.

  She nodded solemnly and surrendered to his will. After all, she would be learning about sorcery and who knows what else. It would be a difficult task to keep her mouth shut, but well worth it.

  Cane gazed at her calmly from beneath his sinking eyelids and understood that she would do as he asked. He did not go to the shelf to get a book nor to the closet where the scrolls were kept. Instead, he sat in meditation, considering his next choice of words. She waited with unsuspecting curiosity, for she did not know these next lessons would change her life, and the lives of those who would never hear them.

  IV

  Cane continued his instruction first thing the following day with no leniency upon their agreement. After only an hour, Esra found her mouth opening and shutting at such frequent intervals that Cane sternly suggested she take a short break to compose herself, lest Meshok mistake her for a Fish and try to steal a bite of her leg. She roamed gloomily around the back garden, disconcerted that she must endure this type of schooling for countless hours more. The excitement of yesterday had somewhat lessened with the reality of her circumstance. She had always been encouraged to question her teacher, and her stubborn curiosity was the only thing that made her return to the large mahogany chair, prepared once again to listen and listen only.

  “Sorcerers have not, as most believe, become fewer in number over the ages. Ye do not see them as often anymore, surely, but that is not because the practice of magick has dwindled or its participants died off. Magick has become an art that has moved underground, as secrecy has a growing importance. The Keepers are a special group of sorcerers that have grown from the need to protect the Kingdom from various threats and they have done so in private. There are some who believe that the Keepers have always been here, since the dawn of our age. Sorcerers have, of course, but the special need for a concealed society of Keepers was completely unnecessary before the reign of the thirty first King.

  “I want to talk about an event that changed our history immensely, even though most people are unaware that it ever happened. At the death of the thirtieth leader, the great King Jythan, the people of LeVara mourned his passing as a just and generous ruler while preparing fer the coronation of his son, Haylore. But one thing the people did not count on was the coming of the youngest son, wrought with fury to claim his brother’s birthright, his seat on the throne.”

  Esra furrowed her brow in concentration as she thought of the name of the next King in succession. “Ye mean King Rїvan? But I did not know he was the youngest! Who is this Haylore? And why did Rїvan gain the throne before his elder brother?”

  A sharp glance from Cane caused Esra to wince and rephrase her slur of questions into an apology. “What I meant to say is that King Rїvan, as I had been taught, was an only child and was bestowed the same joyful blessings from his father just as any other whose legacy was with the throne.”

  “That’s what he would have ye think!” Cane exploded as he pounded the arms of his chair, causing Meshok to bolt upright in alertness. He smoothed the front of his shirt, attempting to compose himself. Esra stared at his reddening face, knowing that Cane was generally a passionate man when it came to learning but rarely moved to such anger.

  “King Rїvan took to great lengths to see that this lie was all that was known after a few years’ time. Anyone who spoke differently faced penalty of death. Although the Prince was barely the age of twenty when he took the throne, King Jythan had sensed the wickedness of his younger son from an early age. Rїvan was thirsty with vengeance and greed, two very large feelings fer such a small boy. In an attempt to stifle such destructive traits, The King sent the child with some of his most trusted associates to an estate in the country. He hoped that a life away from the pressures of court and spending time with good, honest people would help quell the Fire within his young son. He still saw the boy frequently and at such intervals became convinced that Rїvan was indeed gaining insight and honor. But King Jythan had underestimated his son’s most prominent attribute; manipulation. He did not see that the face which Rїvan turned to his father was not the same when the King’s back was turned. He remained at this country estate fer years and years, growing more impatient and cruel over time.

  “A few days after King Jythan’ s death, Rїvan called fer his brother to dine in mourning at his estate in South Herbre, where he planned to have the rightful heir to the throne assassinated. But Haylore had many that were loyal to him, good men who sensed the brother’s malevolence, and they convinced him to send a decoy instead. A gifted woman sorcerer named Yuri was called upon to ensure that Rїvan would not recognize that the man sent in the eldest son’s clothes was not actually the future King.

  “When the decoy returned dead, Haylore knew the truth of what Rїvan had planned fer him. He beat his chest in grief, fer now he had lost a good father and a wicked brother in the same fortnight.

  “Now Haylore had the mightier army and the people’s good grace, and Rїvan knew this. As a last gesture of good faith, Haylore sent a messenger to implore his younger brother forfeit, in exchange fer forgiveness and a life of solitude in banishment to The Frost Grounds, a cold, desolate place in the far western Kingdom. He sincerely hoped that Rїvan would accept his offer, fer he had no desire to wage war in the first year of his reign, especially with one of his own bloodline. And above all, Haylore was a peaceful man, as were all the kings he could remember that came before him. He possessed none of the selfishness or hatred that his brother exuded.

  “But Rїvan had used his long absence in the country to make friends with those far and wide who were just like him; hungry fer power. They devised a plan to kidnap the wives and children of those men loyal to King Haylore while their fathers were at court, and brought the captives to his estate. Rїvan knew that his brother-King would now gather an army in an attempt to rescue the captives. But he had also anticipated, long before the kidnapping of the women and children, the place where the battalions would gather, south of the castle and next to the river in Fayner’s Field. He ordered his sorcerers to poison the Naduri River where it would border the encampment. I am not sure if ye realize it, but the fork in the southern Naduri River was not always there. Haylore’s sorcerers, led by the enchantress Yuri, worked some of the most powerful magick in the history of our Kingdom trying to redirect the poison away from the soldiers and towns that lined the river banks. And so the western fork of the river was formed. It did not happen quickly enough though, and within the first night most of the King’s army had died wretched, vomiting deaths. The poison continued its path down the river, killing many more innocents, including Plants, Humans, Animals, and even some of Rїvan’s own allies. But in his ruthlessness, this caused him no great discomfort, as it was to be expected. The weak will have to die in order fer those with true power to come to fruition.

  “To show his enemy his true supremacy, and to stay those that would rise against him in retaliation, Rїvan ordered his most favored guards, a secret group of
skilled sorcerers and soldiers referred to as the Elites, to kill all of the kidnapped women and children as they slept. With no army left to fight, and no families left to barter fer, the people of LeVara fearfully acquiesced to their new ruler, and secretly hoped that King Haylore had not been slain.

  “Unfortunately, the King had not been slain by the poison directly, but he had spent so much time by the Naduri River trying to save his men and tending to the sick that he fell ill with The Cough and perished within a week. Rїvan decided to build his new castle in The Frost Grounds as a mockery of his brother’s attempt to banish him there. There was no army to oppose the younger son and no other heir to claim the throne, so Rїvan took control. By the time a generation had passed most people had learned never to speak of this abomination, and the story of King Haylore’s murder was silenced at last. Even our current King Keridon, being a fair but indifferent sovereign, does not sense the trouble that now brews in his Kingdom. Now tell me, what do ye think of all this? Ye have permission to speak.”

  At this interval, Cane paused, staring intently at Esra. She sat pensively for a moment, absorbing the words of this chronicle. It seemed a great feat that King Rїvan had achieved such treachery and covered it all so swiftly and with such finality that no whispers of the truth remained. But she trusted her teacher, and knew that although he was eccentric at times, dishonest he was not. There was also a twinge of anger in her, to be so deceived by a history she had trusted. The books she had read, the stories she’d been told, now she wondered how much of it was real, how all the people of LeVara had been living a lie. And it was true that King Keridon was a somewhat dimwitted and lazy ruler, though not a cruel one. She wasn’t sure what trouble Cane spoke of, but it seemed likely that the King would dismiss any threat against him as nonsense, simply because he was foolish and ignorant. He was a great enthusiast of hunting parties and women, not the welfare of his people. And he certainly had no interest in something as unattractive and hardworking as training an army. Although he did not actively harm his people, his inactivity had the potential to be just as destructive. This Rїvan, however, was a despicable character.