Last Messenger - Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Aael

“Take off your shirt,” Saniel said.

Aael did it immediately. His dad might be in danger, and he didn’t want to make things worse.

Saniel placed one hand on Aael’s sternum and the other on his back. “This will hurt.”

Pain. Aael stumbled, only the pressure of his mom’s hands kept him upright. It felt like his skin had melted, and he gasped, the pain too overwhelming to scream. It faded to a tingling sensation, and then his body started to tremble.

“I’m sorry,” Saniel said and hugged him. “I know that hurt.”

“What…happened?”

“I connected you to my Vym. Most Greens can do it.”

“Why fill me with energy? I already had enough to run.”

Saniel lifted his chin. “In the darkness of the unknown, preparation is light.”

“You sound like Padda.”

“He isn’t as useless as most,” Saniel said and then stuffed Aael’s shirt and hood into her pack. “Let’s run.”

They ran west toward the Silent Sea. Aael didn’t try to outrun his mom like he usually did. It felt good to move, and he relaxed. He thought about the crafters and the thing inside them, and it made him feel better. Padda hadn’t excluded him. He had just lacked the capability.

Aael glanced at his mom. She was different. No, he realized, he just saw her differently. He’d never noticed her depth before. Until now, his mom had focused on his physical training, and he’d assumed it was because she didn’t understand the things his dad taught. Maybe he’d even thought she wasn’t smart. Not that anyone could be considered smart next to his dad. But he saw the truth, now. His mother’s behavior was a choice, not because she didn’t understand.

They ran hard for twenty minutes and then slowed. Aael recognized the area. It was a fifteen-minute run from the Abbey, and his mom brought him here once a week to spar. Weeping ray bushes formed a half-circle around the packed sand like eager spectators. They stopped, and his mom dropped her pack.

“Wait here. I need to make sure we’re alone,” Saniel said.

Dunes stretched in every direction. “Seems like a waste of time.”

“Carelessness gets you killed.”

Saniel faced away from Aael and started to remove her clothes. He turned around as well. What was she doing? A moment later, a clump of clothes hit his back and fell to the ground. He turned, picked them up, and chanced a glance to see what his mom was doing.

A figure ran away from Aael. It had to be his mom, but her skin had turned blue, and her torso and arms were flat like some great stone had crushed her. She jumped into the air and glided upward, her legs flattening as she climbed. In a few blinks, her blue skin made her impossible to see, as if the sky had swallowed her.

“Not possible,” Aael whispered.

After a minute, Aael gave up searching for her in the sky. His mom had changed the color of her skin before, making it darker when she went into Hylt, but she had never changed shape. What other abilities did she hide? 

Aael sat, crossed his legs, and rotated his newly healed wrist. His mom could be brutal with her lessons, but it was never anything she couldn’t fix. To everyone else, he was a freak who never got hurt. Kids would still throw things at him, rocks usually, but a few had thrown knives. Their amazement when he remained unhurt always turned into a morbid curiosity of his limits. Just how much damage would it take to injure the freak? He had learned just to run. His mother, though, could break him like a dry leaf. No one threw rocks at her.

Aael searched the sky again. He hated waiting. Saturated with his mom’s magic, his body had stopped absorbing sunlight, and the light rolled off him like water now. The sensation tickled, and he shivered. He grabbed a handful of sand and rubbed it over his neck and face trying to stop the tingling, but it didn’t help.

The sensation from the sunlight started to drive him crazy. Grabbing his mom’s pack, he dumped it onto the sand to retrieve his shirt. The weapons fell out, but his shirt didn’t. He shook the pack until his shirt, along with the rest of the bag’s contents, tumbled out.

Retrieving the clothes, Aael pulled them on and sighed in relief as the sunlight stopped striking his skin. The black dagger had sunk into the sand, and it looked like a scorpion poised to strike. He picked it up, surprised at how balanced it felt. Throwing it into the air, he watched as it spun. It had excellent balance actually, a well-crafted blade. As the dagger dropped, he swiped it from the air with his left hand and slammed it into the sand near his right hip. He would leave that out and play with it until his mom returned.

After returning everything to the bag, Aael turned to grab the knife. As he did, a flash of iridescence made him squint as something fractured the sunlight. He leaned down and found the source, a white rock. Its location meant it probably had come from the pack. He picked it up, turned it a few times, and placed it in his left palm. The thin oval had engravings on both sides. Was it a gem?

Aael whistled at the craftsmanship. He spent his days surrounded by artists and knew the effort it took to work with stone. He had some skill himself and had made two stone scabbards for the daggers Bacchus worked on. But this had been done by a master. Aael had never seen such fine etching in stone. The cuts were so intricate it looked like a painting. He studied the engraving: an idlewood tree, alone on a sand dune, fury kisses a carpet at its base, the distant sun, muted, half eclipsed by snow-capped mountains, a small heart etched into the trunk, a name in the heart’s center…Lyllyn.

Flipping the stone, Aael saw the same tree viewed from the opposite angle. Clever. Carved with the same precision: dunes flowed to the horizon, a man and woman, their bare legs outstretched, the woman’s back against the trunk, the man’s torso twisted, kissing her…the woman held the man’s head, and the kiss hid their faces…clothes made two small mounds and above their head, another engraving…a spiral with six levels, he couldn’t tell if it was a tower or a hole.

The rock had a faint line along its edge. Rotating the stone, Aael traced the depression with a finger. The line went almost the entire circumference. This was meant to open!

Aael found the point where the line vanished, which must be the hinge. He grasped the opposite side, pulled, and felt the clasp release.

The scent of strawberries nearly overpowered Aael, and his mother’s hand, no longer blue, appeared. She took the locket, and he heard it click closed.

“Not yet,” Saniel said softly.

Aael stood and faced her, too excited to be embarrassed at her nakedness. “What is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Saniel shook her head. “Not yet. Soon.” She bent down, grabbed the dagger, and then put the weapon and the locket in the pack. 

Aael looked away as his mom put her clothes on. Curiosity fed his growing frustration with his mom. When he turned back, she had finished dressing and had the pack slung over her shoulder. She looked down and away from him. Was she crying? His mom didn’t hide her emotions, but she rarely cried. She walked away from him.

Aael ran to catch up and bent down to see her face. Tears had washed a trail down her sand-covered cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

Saniel opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “I’m worried about your dad.”

Dad had trained Aael to read people. You didn’t need to be a Ghost Mage to see what people thought. Their expressions and body language betrayed them if you knew the signs. His mom had told him the truth, but her response had taken too long. She had adjusted her pack twice, pulled her arms close, and not met his eyes. She definitely was hiding something.

“Me too,” Aael said as they continued to walk. “Are we done running?”

“We’re close,” Saniel said.

The dunes here were smaller, and Aael could see a few miles in every direction. Empty sand stretched everywhere he looked. He bit his cheek to stop from asking where they were going. His mom hated it when he pestered her.

Aael wondered what secrets his mom kept? Why didn’t she trust him? Silent tears still fell down her cheeks. Had he caused it? His chest tightened, and his breath caught. He didn’t want to ask, terrified the answer might be yes. He needed to distract her, and himself, before her pain overwhelmed them both.

“I wish I could fly,” Aael said. “What’s it like?”

Saniel wiped her cheeks and beamed at Aael. “It’s wonderful. You can take your problems and leave them in the clouds.”

The tightness in Aael’s chest loosened when his mom smiled. He took her hand and held it, something he hadn’t done in years. It was okay out here where no one would see. She gave it a fierce squeeze, her hand still damp from tears, and he squeezed back.

“Can Dad fly?” Aael asked.

Saniel thought a moment. “No, but he could manage a glide.”

“Why can’t you do the same things? You’re both mages.”

“Why do you write with your right hand?”

“It feels natural.”

Saniel nodded. “Exactly. You could use your left, but it’s not the same. Most mages use a single color. The others aren’t natural.”

Aael cocked his head. “You and Dad use multiple colors.”

“We aren’t normal.”

“Dad says you two are weak and that I need to avoid real mages.”

Saniel stopped, and Aael stopped as well. He turned and looked at her. Had he said something wrong?

Saniel started to walk again. “Your father is right. Always avoid a mage.”

His mom’s lips were pressed together, and Aael wondered why this subject bothered her. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he decided to leave it alone, there would be time to pry later.

Aael’s silence lasted six steps. “Body molding, flying, healing, you even used the wind against me earlier. It doesn’t seem possible for one mage.”

“You’re young. You have no idea what’s possible.”

That might be true, but his mom’s behavior was suspicious.

“In Dad’s books, you have to go back to the Separation War to find mages who could do that. Even then, it was rare. You and Dad aren’t –”

Saniel stopped and interrupted Aael. “We’re here.”

Aael clenched his hands, frustrated at being ignored. He let the question go, his mom, like a storm or a flood, was immune to force, no, she was a force. No amount of pressure would affect her. He looked around. “There’s nothing here.”

“Your dad will be disappointed.”

“Why?”

“You’re only thinking in two dimensions.”

Aael scanned the sky. He had thought she’d said Dad couldn’t fly. 

Aael refocused on his mom as she stepped close and hugged him. He hugged her back.

When Aael’s hands touched his mom’s back, everything disappeared.