Last Messenger - Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Saniel

“Tell me about the Gods,” Saniel said.

Aael stared at her. “Dad?”

“Very funny. Now answer.”

“Well, until the Separation…”

She sliced the air with her hand. “No boring history.”

After a few seconds, Aael tried again. “Thalt is our God. He represents light, life, and chaos. Worshiped in the north. His symbol is a six colored star that matches the six major branches of magic.”

“And Raln?” she asked.

“Padda’s God. God of darkness, order, and logic. Worshiped in the south. His symbol is a mageblood tree.”

“And Kael?”

“God of balance, luck, and wisdom. Worshiped by few. Caused the Separation. His symbol is an oval with black and white swirls.”

Saniel shook her head. “Her. Kael is female. And that’s not her symbol. Just what’s left after eons of distortion.”

Aael’s brow furrowed. “Dad never made a distinction. Gender didn’t seem important.”

“Your father is an idiot,” Saniel said affectionately.

“Then what’s her symbol?”

A clump of weeping ray bushes clung to a dune on their left. The small yellow flowers on the bushes drooped, their pedals curved backward like cupped hands ready to catch the slightest bit of moisture. Saniel didn’t mind the sun, and the brutal heat didn’t affect her. But the shade would make it easier to see. Walking to the bushes, she sat cross-legged in their shadow, and Aael plopped down across from her.

Saniel opened her pack and dumped it out. The baton, a dagger, and a crossbow bolt, all made of the black aln, spilled across the sand. Half-hidden by the dark weapons was her journal, a small pouch, and writing charcoal. She picked up her journal, opened it, and removed the bookmark. The width of her index finger and made from a snow leopard pelt, the bookmark reminded her of home. She pulled it taut and turned it in her hands, showing Aael the light grey color on one side and black color of the other.

Saniel handed it to Aael. “How many sides does it have?”

“Two.”

Saniel retrieved the bookmark and held it between them with her left hand, the bookmark dangling like a dead snake. She pointed at the light-colored side, “Thalt,” and then rotated the cloth to the dark side, “Raln.”

Grabbing the bottom of the bookmark with her other hand, Saniel brought it up to eye level. The bookmark strung between her hands like a limp noodle. She turned her right hand toward Aael and her left hand away from him, twisting the bookmark. Pressing the ends together, she used a trickle of Green energy to stitch the sinews in the pelt together, fusing them.

She held up the twisted circle. “Kael.”

Aael took it from her.

“How many sides does it have?” Saniel asked again.

“Two.”

“Mark them to be sure,” Saniel said and handed him the charcoal.

Aael placed the end of the charcoal on the white side and started pulling the bookmark. The charcoal left a faint line on the cloth. The color changed to black as Aael continued to pull, and a few moments later, the white reappeared. He had traced both sides and never lifted the charcoal.

“How many sides does it have?” Saniel asked a third time.

Aael looked at her, his eyes wide. “One.”

“This is a Kael Ring. Her true symbol.”

Thalt’s compulsion felt like a thornbush pulled through her mind. “Return! I summon you!”

Saniel closed her eyes and leaned forward until her hands rested on the hot sand. She pictured her swollen belly, Caden’s hand atop it, his face shocked as Aael kicked. The image burned the compulsion from her mind.

“Mom?”

Aael touched her shoulder, and she sat up, blinking the tears away. He pulled his hand back. “Are you alright?” 

Aael’s concern warmed Saniel’s chest. She nodded but took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. Looking into her son’s dark eyes, she continued. “The Gods’ relationship matters. You’ve trained to feel waves in the air, both sound and pressure. To read them and act. This is Thalt’s domain.”

“But, I…”

Saniel frowned, and Aael stopped talking. Picking up the black dagger, she held it between them. “This is Raln’s domain. A substance of pure order so dense we feel its bite.”

Aael rubbed his chest, and Saniel knew he remembered. She continued. “Items like this are razors. They slice through normal waves, almost undetectable. But, like magnets with the same pole, the magic in our bodies will resist them.”

Aael took the dagger and moved it over his hand. “I can’t feel it now. How could I feel it in the middle of a fight?”

“It’s difficult, and it’s why these weapons are feared. That’s not all,” Saniel said.

“How could it get worse?”

“Never ask that. My experience with the…in life, is that you should never tempt the Gods.”

Aael nodded, his brow furrowed. Saniel never talked to him about these things, and she knew her behavior confused him. But her options were gone, and secrets needed to be spoken. Her throat constricted. There were so many secrets.

Saniel swallowed hard. “Only a few can shape the aln. Have you ever wondered why?”

Aael’s cheeks flushed. “People are talented at different things.”

“Think about Kael’s Ring.”

Aael’s color returned to normal, and he tilted his head. “Kael is the balance between her brothers.” He thought for a few seconds. “If mages produce energy, balance dictates something consumes it.”

“Yes, the brothers are as tightly coupled as Kael’s Ring. Her purpose is to manage this balance.”

“How does this involve the crafters?” Aael asked.

Saniel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Aln is crystallized magic.”

“The trees’ fruit is trapped magic? How is that possible?”

Saniel’s stomach twisted, and she bit her lip. Aael’s question struck at the heart of the terrible war the Gods fought. Painful memories tried to surface, but she shoved them back. Those days were behind her, and she needed to focus on her son. She touched Aael’s right hand. “Your question is important, but I need you to just accept it for right now. The details will come later.”

“Okay,” Aael said. “How do the monks mold it?”

“What is the simplest explanation?”

Aael ran his hands through his short hair. “Before the Separation Thalt and Raln were at war. I’d assumed both sides were mages. But, from what you told me, they were different.”

“Those that carry the darkness were called, among other things, Hollow Mages. History lumps us all together.”

“If Raln’s mages destroy magic –”

Saniel held up her hand. “Magic is never destroyed, and the Gods are more than just magic. It is better to think of Thalt like chaos and Raln like order.”

“And Kael?”

“She is the bridge between them.”

“So they are all different, but Raln’s mages can affect magic.”

Saniel nodded.

Aael waved his hands as he talked. “The Shade stopped the arrow. Padda moved the aln I threw at…I threw in the workshop.” His eyes widened. “They can control magic. Guide it even!”

Saniel smiled. “Painfully slow, but yes. Not only is it difficult to detect aln, but you can’t rely on its path. The lighter and faster it moves, the more Raln’s servants can affect the trajectory.”

Aael frowned. “But the arrow in my chest, I couldn’t remove it. Why –”

Saniel held up her hand as a faint pressure struck her mind. The impact so slight she almost missed it. She focused on it and created space in her mind for it to blossom.

A blue hummingbird flitted into her consciousness, and a heartbeat later disappeared, the memory of it as blurry as the creature’s wings.

Saniel sat motionless as the implications of that image rampaged through her mind. She took three deep breaths, opened her Vym, and drenched herself in the Blue stream. Blue had always been her favorite; the color of transformation, of action, of violence. 

Saniel focused on her son. She hadn’t felt fear in centuries, but she felt it now. “We have to go,” she said as she stuffed her journal into the pack.

“What just happened?” Aael asked. “Why are you glowing?”

“I just heard from your dad.”

“What! You guys can talk like that?”

Saniel shook her head. “He sent a simple image. It doesn’t travel far, and you have to be attuned.”

“What did he say?”

No more secrets, Saniel reminded herself. “Imminent danger. It is the closest thing your father has to panic.”

“What do we do?”

“We run for the bolt hole.”

“Will Dad be there?”

Saniel closed the backpack, stood, and slung it over her shoulder. “He will if he’s not already dead.”