Chapter 4 - The Last Messenger

Chapter 4 - Aael

Aael fought his ascent into consciousness, but his mind ignored him. No, it obeyed someone else, someone who wanted him awake. The scent of strawberries surrounded him. That meant trouble.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Mom scolded.

The wood ceiling above Aael’s bed came into focus, and he felt a sheet covering his waist and legs. Light from the open window made it brighter than he liked. Thankfully his mom had forced him into unconsciousness as soon as he’d fallen into bed this morning. Her healing could be painful, and he’d worried she would force him to remain awake as punishment for his carelessness. 

Aael turned and studied his mom, trying to gauge her mood. She sat staring at him with crossed legs, folded arms, and narrowed eyes. Not good. He gave himself a mental pat-down. Nothing remained broken, but his ribs, jaw, and leg ached from the accelerated regrowth. She valued speed over comfort.

 Leaning forward, she slapped Aael’s chest. “Stupid boy, you’re fine. I had to re-break two of your ribs. Do you know what that’s like? Breaking your child’s ribs?”

“I’m sorry. Thanks, Mom.”

“Sorry for what? For leaving the group? For almost dying? Have I taught you nothing?”

Aael couldn’t tell her the truth. If she knew where he’d been, he would never be allowed into Hylt again.

“It was a girl.”

She frowned. “What, girl?”

Aael hurried to explain. “The girl who put two arrows in me. I didn’t sense them coming. I couldn’t get them out or heal, and I panicked.”

Aael’s mom hissed, leaned back against her chair, and closed her eyes. After a few seconds, she opened them, and her shoulders dropped. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Her strong reaction surprised Aael. Guilt seeped into his thoughts. He had only wanted to deflect her questions, not upset her.

“I hate that feeling,” she whispered.

“It happened to you?”

She looked down for a dozen heartbeats and then met his eyes. “Twice. The weapons are abominations.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “There’s a technique to sense them. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

She stood to leave.

“Are you mad at me?” Aael asked.

“Yes,” she snapped and then continued in a softer voice. “Only a little at you. I’m mad nothing is being done. Those Sachi should be taught a lesson. They need to fear us.”

“And Dad?”

She laughed. “What else? He wants to think about it. He’s more interested in the Shade he met than finding those responsible. He should be ashamed.”

Had Aael been more careful, none of this would’ve happened. But it really hadn’t been his fault. That gang had singled him out.

“Why do people hurt me?” Aael asked.

She sat back down. “There are five reasons a person does anything.” She lifted a finger one by one as she answered. “Gain. Necessity. Ignorance. Fear. Pleasure. Motivations are important, and recognizing them provides an advantage.” She clenched her hand. “Fear.”

“They fear me?” Aael asked as he waved a hand over his body. “What's to fear?" 

She sighed. "You’re different. That alone is enough for most.” She kissed his forehead again. “I’m done with caution. Tomorrow we train with mageblood weapons.”

Aael rubbed his chest, shocked by the large lesion that had formed. “It’s spreading faster.”

She traced a brown lesion near his temple, half-hidden by his black hair. “I know.”

“How much longer?” Aael asked and then paused, not wanting to finish the sentence. He forced the words out. “How long before I’m dead?”

She frowned. “Those arrows did something to you. At this rate,” She squeezed Aael’s right hand. “A few months.”

Aael gasped and tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down.

“Months?” Aael asked.

“We’ll find a cure. Assuming your stupidity doesn’t kill you first.”

Aael tried to smile, but his fear smothered it. They had looked for a cure his whole life, and now they only had months. “I’m going to die.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“But you can’t stop it. And Dad has a million books in his head, and he can’t help either. I’m going to die.”

“Quit saying that.”

Aael nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“There is still a place we haven’t looked,” she said.

“Then why aren’t we headed there right now?”

“Because the temple is hidden from people like us. The Abbot is pleading our case. You can’t give up hope.”

Aael nodded again, which seemed to satisfy her. She hugged him, returned the chair to his desk, and closed the door as she left.

Aael flexed his right hand and felt a tightness around the hard skin that had formed near his wrist. It didn’t impede his movement yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Whatever disease he had, it scared him that his mom couldn’t fix it. He pushed his fears away. His parents had a plan, and they wouldn’t let him die. Although a quick death might be better than this slow slide. Without that Shade’s arrival, he’d be another piece of trash floating in Hylt’s harbor.

The Shade! He couldn’t wait to tell Bacchus. The Shade had called Aael the Final Messenger. He pulled a trickle of magic from his body and used it to scan the books in his memory. He couldn’t find anything referencing Shade Messengers. His dad, with libraries in his mind, would surely know something.

Aael wished he’d seen more of the fight. The smoothness of the Shade’s movements had made the fight look like a dance. Very different than the sharp and fast strikes his mom taught. And the arrow! Elu had somehow stopped an arrow midflight and held it motionless. Had that really happened?

Sitting up, Aael pushed the sheet off his body and looked down at himself. There were no visible wounds, but he could feel his mom’s magic pooled inside him like internal bandages.

Aael knew his parents were weak mages. They both avoided his questions, but he knew his mom used Green magic. She always claimed his injuries, no matter the severity, were at the limit of her skills. The only thing she hadn’t been able to fix was his disease. In fact, it seemed like her healing made the lesions worse.

Aael rubbed his chest where the arrow had struck. The skin felt rough, which meant a new lesion had started. It itched, and he contemplated digging it out. But he had tried that before, and they always came back.

The chest injury reminded Aael of the girl who’d caused it. Elu had called her Mia. She had released an arrow at Elu’s back without hesitation, a shameful and cowardly act. She didn’t deserve the chance Elu had given her. The Shade should have left her in the city, and the Abbot should have denied her shelter at the Abbey.

Aael had never heard the Abbot greet someone like that before either, and the conversation with Elu had vibrated with a common history. Where would they have met? What other secrets did the Abbot keep from him? Adults only wanted to talk about boring things. They hid anything of interest.

Aael closed his eyes and replayed his memories from last night. He felt the hot dirt against his face, the metallic taste of blood as it filled his mouth, and the smell of fish and brine. His mind retreated from the memories, but he forced it back. There! Something dark and cold inside him had reached out and cradled the arrows. Is that what it felt like to give up and die?

Aael opened his eyes and shook his head to scramble the memory. He didn’t want to believe he was a coward, but what else could it have been? When things got tough, he had given up.

Getting out of bed, Aael paused to test his balance. No dizziness. He scrunched his toes against the smooth planks of the floor and then walked to the dresser. His small room had originally been used for visiting monks, and it contained the two things he valued most, privacy and a window. The window let light in and him out.

A small mirror, covered with a blanket, hung above the dresser. On top of the dresser lay his history homework, a book, brittle with age. Aael glanced at the title, Thalt’s General, the Red Spire’s role in the Separation War. He had memorized it last week. That was the easy part. Now he had to go through each word and correlate it with all the other information he had stored. Cataloging all the information in a book exhausted him and made his brain feel like a wet rag.

Dad expected Aael to have almost finished, but he hadn’t even started. This book was about the war, which made it better than most, but he still couldn’t bring himself to start. He pulled the blanket off the mirror but avoided looking at his disgusting body.

Facing away from the mirror, Aael twisted around and tried to see the scar Elu had mentioned. Aael could make out the black spot in the center of his back, but he couldn’t see any scars. Dozens of dark blotches covered his back, and it reminded him of a dying leaf. He turned around and quickly covered the mirror.

Aael stood in just his shorts and stared at the blanket-covered mirror. The rich in Hylt wore colored silks that were so sheer Aael didn’t know why they bothered wearing them. The poor dressed in shorts, or sometimes just a loincloth, with straps across their chest to hold weapons and personal belongings. 

The only people who covered themselves in Hylt were sailors from the north who dressed in cotton and the diseased who wrapped themselves in whatever they could find to hide their ailments. Standing like this in just shorts, Aael felt liberated, and he imagined what it would feel like to go outside like this. He looked down, and his joy faded. Brown blotches covered his torso, more than he had ever seen, and his stomach turned. 

He would never be like everyone else.