Unlike Leviathan, who is often seen in the waters off the northern continents, Bahamut has not been sighted since the fall of Leifen, although his most faithful followers still claim to feel his presence and hear his voice. Do not mistake me, reader, for I am not suggesting he is dead; his immortality is proven. But immortal beings still grieve, and the fall of that great city was a source of grief for many at that time. Bahamut, who had a hand in its construction, must surely have grieved its demise, and may be grieving still. It is this author's belief that wherever Leifen fell, if those ruins are ever found, there will Bahamut be also, standing endless vigil.
Another example of the grief of immortals is that of the god Ramuh, who has not been sighted since even before the fall of Leifen...
From "The Realms of Gods and Men: An Analysis of World Religions, their History, and their Spread in the Absence of the Gods Themselves", by Sarina Mikoto, High Priestess of White Hall in the time of King Tomas Plein, grandfather to King Fuller
She was still at the docks, chatting with her new friends, watching the little boats, when the sun began to set and Orin came looking for her. "Ah, Miss Lena! There you are!" he said, smiling his wrinkled smile as he waited at the foot of the dock. "Will you walk with me? It is past time we rejoined the others."
She handed the boat she'd been holding back to Stokely and she stood, straightening the hem of her white robe. "I have to go," she said.
"Aw, stay!" Tanner, one of the smaller boys, said. "There's plenty of daylight left!"
"Yeah," Stokes agreed. "We're usually here until dark."
She shook her head. "And let Lord Orin walk all the way to Master Randell's house alone?"
"He looks spry," Stokes said. He grinned at her expression. "Joking! No, you should go with him. You're right. Will you come back tomorrow?"
"If I'm able," Lena said, smiling. "Thank you for your company today." She waved farewell to them, then joined Orin on the shore.
They walked away from the lake, through the town, out the other side to the wooded area where the Randells lived. Orin walked slowly, straight-backed, but with his hand tight on Lena's arm. She wondered if he truly needed the support or if he was acting again. She found she couldn't tell sometimes. She brought up her soul sight, trying to be subtle about examining his aura for injuries and aches, and was surprised when the evening twilight lit up around her. The forest was so full of life!
Orin spoke to her, breaking her concentration. "I trust you had a pleasant day, Miss Lena?"
"Yes, very," she said. "And you?"
"I spent some time in nature, myself. It is good to familiarize oneself with one's surroundings, especially in a new place. The far side of the lake is particularly lovely."
"Is it?" Lena cocked her head, examining his aura near his feet and legs. The lake was huge. If the old man had walked that far already, perhaps his feet pained him. That would explain the slowness, she thought.
"Indeed," Orin said. "You look well, Miss Lena. Time on the water agrees with you. Though I must say you could have found better company than those boys."
"They're nice," Lena said.
Orin nodded. "Yes, useless people often are."
Lena laughed.
The sun hadn't completely set by the time they reached the Randells', but the fading light made the path harder to see, and Lena was glad it was worn so smooth. She didn't like to think of Orin tripping in the dark. She could see the house ahead of them, and someone had put a lamp right in the window, a welcoming sight that reminded Lena of home.
When they entered the house, they found Kane already there, sitting at the table with his father while Miss Dahlia worked at the stove over a bubbling pot that smelled of beans and bacon. Kane looked up at her as she came in, and though his grin was cocky as ever, his eyes betrayed a weariness that surprised her. "Hey, Lena," he said. "Pull up a chair."
She nodded, moving in to sit beside him while Orin took a seat on the table's other side. "Where's Jack?" she asked.
"He'll be along. Liam's gone to fetch him," Dahlia said from the stove.
Kane shrugged. "He was still at the library when I finished my interview. Seems he found something today that's got all the sages in an uproar."
"And how was your talk with the sages?" Orin asked.
"Not much of a talk," Kane said, rolling his shoulders. "They spent half the day making me hit things for their entertainment. I'm going to be sore in the morning."
"Now, now," Redden said, sipping from a mug of something hot that steamed between his hands. "They had plenty of questions for you at the end."
"I bet she didn't have to hit things," Kane said, pointing at Lena.
She shook her head. "Only questions."
Kane scoffed. "Figures." He sat back as Dahlia leaned over the table to set steaming mugs in front of Orin and Lena and to take away the empty one that sat in front of Kane.
Lena sipped her drink, some sort of spiced cider, good, but too warm to drink quickly. She blew on the liquid's surface.
"Our Lena spent the day playing with toy boats," Orin said, smiling in amusement.
"Toy boats?" Redden said, arching an eyebrow.
Lena felt herself blushing. "They were machina, actually. Some of the locals-"
"Machina?" Kane exclaimed. "I had to do real work all day and you got to play with machina?"
His jealousy amused her. "Maybe you could come with me tomorrow? They invited me to come back."
Kane crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. "The Circle won't be done with me for days. They were so busy having me break rocks, they've barely begun to interview me."
He looked up at the sound of voices from outside, approaching the house. Lena recognized Thad's voice before the door opened and the boy came in, followed by Sarda and Master Randell. Thad rushed to the chair across from Kane, bouncing up and down in excitement as he sat down. "Guys! Guess what? We've found something!"
Redden sipped his drink. "Jack seems to think our necromancer was a fiend."
Thad deflated a bit. "How did you know?"
"The whole town knows," Sarda said, taking the chair beside Redden's. His arms were full of papers, smudged drawings done with charcoal. He spread them out on the table one by one with meticulous care.
Orin pursed his lips. He'd lifted his mug to take a drink, but he set it down again. A mild reaction on the surface, but Lena felt his concern. "I have not yet heard this," he said. "I would be interested to hear how Jack came to such a conclusion."
"As would I," Redden said, nodding. "Where is he?"
"Still at the library," Randell said, frowning. He didn't sit - he seemed restless - and Lena felt unease bubbling away inside of him like the pot his wife stirred on the stove. "Pulling every book we have on King Titus the Third. I've never seen him and Pearl work together before... Even still, from what I saw, it will take days to process that much information."
"What does King Titus have to do with anything?" Lena asked.
"Everything, apparently," Randell said. "We have every reason to believe the necromancer you brought down in Melmond was not only a fiend, but the very same fiend Titus defeated in Gaia before the fall of Leifen."
"The story said he cleansed the aether!" Thad said excitedly. "It was a big battle!" He ruffled the pages in front of Sarda, ignoring Sarda's cries of dismay, and picked up one of the drawings, holding it up for Lena: an image of Titus kneeling, weeping over the body of a man whose face was in shadow. "Diemetrius was poisoning the aether, but Titus was able to cleanse it when he defeated him."
"Oh, I know about that battle," Lena said, smiling at Thad's excitement. The boy did love a good story. "That sounds like what happened in Melmond: the Rot went away when the necromancer died."
Redden seemed unconvinced. "It's a compelling theory. But how do we know Diemetrius and Eldieme were the same person?"
Randell shrugged. "We don't. Not with any certainty. But the evidence seems to be pointing that way. And strongly."
"You couldn't have drawn his face for us?" Kane asked.
Sarda hunched his shoulders. "I couldn't see that part," he said defensively.
"Regardless," Redden said, shaking his head, "if we have to read through everything in the archives related to Titus to find more answers, we'll have our work cut out for us."
Sarda "harrumphed", snatching his picture from Thad's hands and smoothing it down before gathering his drawings into a tidy stack.
"Then I suppose I know how I shall be spending my time tomorrow," Orin said, nodding. He looked at Thadius and added, "I hope you paid attention to Master Pearl's methods of organization. I intend to test you on them."
Thad huffed out a breath. "Why does everything have to be a lesson all the time?"
"This is done," Dahlia said from the stove. "Come and serve yourselves."
Randell took an empty bowl from his wife and filled it before he took the seat next to Sarda.
Sarda smiled vacantly. "Oh, hello!" he said, as if he hadn't seen Randell before despite having arrived with him. "When did you get here?"
Redden sighed, shaking his head.
"I drew this for you," Sarda went on, flipping through his stack of pages before holding up one of the sketches for Master Randell, who set his bowl down to take the drawing.
A slow smile crept over Randell's face. "Why... this is Wrede as a young man! The day he broke his arm falling out of that tree! Darling! Look here! Do you remember?"
Dahlia moved in behind her husband, a hand on his shoulder as she squinted at the picture he held up for her. "How could I forget?" she said, her mouth quirking up on one side in an almost smile. She chuckled. "You've captured his youthful ignorance well enough." She said it dismissively, as if the drawing of her son were a trifling thing, but Lena felt how much she loved it.
"Innocence!" Randell corrected.
Dahlia shrugged, patting her husband's back. "Either way. It's a look he's outgrown by now."
"Children tend to do that," Redden said, giving his son an arch look. "So I'm told. I've yet to experience that with my own child."
"Keep talking, old man," Kane muttered, but Lena felt the affection in his voice. "Someone's going to have to take care of you someday."
"I drew one for you, too!" Sarda said, passing a drawing to Redden.
Redden looked at it, face perfectly schooled, but Lena felt his heart fill. After a moment, his lip twitched. He held the drawing in one hand and rubbed his chin with the other, as though trying to control that momentary lapse.
"Let me see," Kane said, leaning over. Peering past him, Lena could just make out the drawing of what looked to be a woman standing behind a shop counter. Kane grinned widely, a grin very similar to that of the woman in the picture. "It's mom!"
Redden nodded. "The day I met her."
"He did one for me too," Thad said, patting a pocket in his shirt. "Of Pappy and Gram. They're really young, but you can tell it's them."
"This is an amazing talent!" Randell said, still gazing at his son's youthful face in the sketch. "We've had other prophets before, but never one with such artistic skill! To pluck a memory out of the aether and then capture it on paper..."
"Such a thoughtful gift," Dahlia said, nodding. She wandered over to Sarda's side and looked over his shoulder at the top drawing in his stack. "And you've drawn Iris, too! Is that for Jack?"
Sarda looked down at the table and Lena felt a hint of shame. "For Silas. I needed an apology. So he'll let me back in the house."
Kane's face flushed in sudden anger. "Lukahn kicked you out? That damned bastard!"
"Kane!" Redden snapped. "Not at the table!"
"Father! Sarda can barely look after himself - no offense, Sarda."
Sarda shrugged. "None taken."
"He's Lukahn's guest! He can't just-"
Randell waved a hand. "We'll get it sorted out. Meanwhile, I'd be most interested to know if your drawings can assist us in our research. Could you see the origins of the orbs? Perhaps you could verify Eldieme's identity?"
Sarda pursed his lips, confused. "I can't always control what I see..."
"I say we give him a pile of blank paper and see what he comes up with," said Dahlia. "Even if he doesn't help with your research, a few more pretty portraits like these will at least endear him to the other villagers." She lifted the drawing of Iris and set it aside to reveal the picture underneath. "Oh, my..." she said, her lips quirking into a ridiculous smile. "I take that back. He might offend more than endear."
Lena glanced over and she gasped. The picture showed a woman in a low-cut blouse, smiling in the arms of a huge, bearded man. He held her in a dip, as though they'd been dancing. One of the woman's legs was kicked up over his hip, her skirt falling back to show an obscene amount of skin as the man gripped her thigh. They looked incredibly happy together.
Sarda smiled, passing the picture to Lena. "That one's for you!"
"Of course it is." She laughed uncomfortably as she took it, but she had to smile.
Beside her, Kane whistled. "Wow! Who's she?"
"That's my aunt Clara," Lena said.
"I see where you get it," he said with a grin.
Lena blushed. She'd never seen much resemblance between herself and her aunt.
Redden cuffed his son in the head. Kane grumbled a protest, but Redden talked over him. "And that big bearded fellow? Is that your uncle?"
Lena nodded.
"What other drawings do you have?" Randell asked Sarda, but Lena didn't pay much attention to his reply. She was too focused on her own drawing, the joy shown in it. She missed her family. Would Sarda draw her parents if she asked him? Could he draw Jack's?
She was still thinking of Jack when dinner came to an end. The hour grew late, but Jack still hadn't arrived when she and Thad and Sarda left together for Lukahn's house.
The sun had nearly crested the eastern horizon when Kane made it to Lukahn's house. Even so, he worried he would be too late. Jack got up early most days. He was pleased, therefore, to see Jack just exiting the house when he arrived. Jack turned from quietly latching the door behind him, saw Kane on the path leading up to the house, and practically rolled his eyes. "I haven't time for practice today."
Kane shook his head. "It's not optional. Come on. Sooner begun, and all that."
Jack protested, but Kane was satisfied to note that he followed along anyway. "Kane, I'm serious! My research-"
"Will still be there after you get some practice in," Kane said, talking over him. "It's not healthy, you know. Sitting indoors, hunched over books all day..."
"Not getting hit with a wooden sword," Jack added.
"If you practiced more, you wouldn't get hit."
Jack sighed dramatically, but the argument dropped.
Kane grinned. Jack complained, yes, but Kane was sure he enjoyed their practices. Which was good, since Kane had determined to make him do it anyway. He'd meant what he said: Jack's study habits weren't healthy. The mage had a tendency to lose himself in his reading, forgetting to eat, forgetting to sleep. Kane wondered how late the mage had stayed up studying. He never had come in for dinner the night before, and Kane could tell from looking at him that he was exhausted now.
They reached the empty hilltop, perfect for practice, that Kane had found a few days before. Jack said there had once been a house there, lost to fire after a lightning strike, and it had been so old that the owner had simply smoothed the ground over before he rebuilt elsewhere. It made for a wonderful sparring ground, clear of trees, with no rocks or holes to turn unwary ankles as they exercised.
They worked through the forms first, the two of them side by side. They didn't talk. Kane followed Jack's progress out of the corner of his eye, but he hardly ever had to correct Jack's form anymore, so it was easier to focus on his own. After the forms, they squared off for a practice bout. It had been days since they last sparred aboard the ship, but Kane was pleased to note that Jack fell into a ready stance as though he'd drilled at it for years and held his own through the first few attacks.
"Good," he said, after Jack executed a perfect block. "You're not cheating again are you?" Kane didn't see a corona, but that didn't mean Jack wasn't reading the aether a few seconds into the future to predict his moves.
"No," Jack answered simply, his voice flat. He always spoke that way when they fought. The mage tended to lock his emotions away for it, even in practice.
"Very good, then," he repeated. "Keep an eye on my wrist when I come at you from this angle. See if you can spot my next strike."
He struck. Jack blocked.
"You see it?"
"I think so," said Jack.
"Again. I'll go faster this time." He tried two rapid strikes in a row, both of which Jack blocked, though the second one was admittedly clumsier than the first. "Alright," Kane said, nodding. "Still not cheating?"
"No."
Kane smiled. "You might want to start."
Jack's eyes widened in surprise - an expression Kane found immensely satisfying - as Kane launched himself at his opponent, holding nothing back.
He kept his strikes low, aiming mostly at the hips, occasionally the shoulders, not wanting to hit Jack in the head if any of his attacks made it through Jack's defenses. And Jack was entirely focused on defense now, his eyes lit by a blue-green corona as he read the aether, blocking every strike before it fell.
Faster, faster, Kane attacked, feeling his heart race, his lungs work. Jack, less fit than he was, panted behind his scarf, sweat beading on his forehead, but still he kept at it, the corona glowing brighter as he struggled to keep up, to keep ahead. When Kane felt his own form growing sloppy, he dropped into a crouch, brought his practice sword around in a low sweep right into Jack's ankle with a crack barely muffled by Jack's thick leather boots. The mage cried out, a Leifenish curse, and promptly fell over when he tried to take the weight off that foot.
Kane fell over himself, laughing too hard to maintain his balance as he tried to rise from the crouch. Jack cursed once more, but then he was laughing too, both of them sprawled out on the grass as they caught their breath.
Jack pulled his scarf down, gulping air, and Kane caught the edges of a smile on his lips. "Are we done here?" Jack asked.
"Yeah," Kane said, looking up at the sky, the clouds. "Yeah, we're done."
Jack nodded, but he didn't move, apparently too winded.
"So what have you found in the library that has you so eager to get back there?" Kane asked. "Does it really make a difference, Eldieme being a fiend?"
"Possibly," Jack said. "Possibly not. We know so little about fiends. There have only been a handful in recorded history."
Jack paused, still catching his breath, but Kane knew he had more to say - that lecturing tone of his had come out - so Kane waited without interrupting.
Jack continued. "We do know fiends are inextricably tied to the aether: mortal mages whose power is so great, they've transcended their physical bodies. But they don't contribute to the aetheric cycle like the living do. You know of the aetheric cycle, yes?" Jack paused briefly then went on. "Wait. Don't answer that. You probably don't."
"Hey!" Kane said. But, well, Jack was right. He didn't know that one.
"Imagine the aether as water, the way rain falls and evaporates and falls again. You've heard the aether called the Lifestream? It flows. Sometimes it pools in places - in people - stopping for a time. People help it along. We leave bits of our auras - bits of our aether - behind as we go through life, but we also collect bits of aether wherever we go and from everyone we meet. It gets used up as we live, and rejoins the Lifestream as we die."
"Alright," Kane said. "That makes sense."
"Well, fiends disrupt that cycle. The aether doesn't come to them naturally anymore. They're like leeches, ticks, parasites. They cling to the aether, sucking it up, sucking it in. And they just keep hold of it."
"So killing one explains the aether burst these people keep talking about?" Kane asked.
"It does," Jack said, nodding. "It could also explain why killing the necromancer released Melmond from the Rot. A fiend could have caused it, pulling the life force out of the surrounding area. Particularly if he was an undead being to begin with: it's possible he would have sucked up the aether faster than the landscape could replenish it."
"Wow," said Kane. He turned it over in his mind for a moment. Jack kept silent. He was a good teacher, Kane thought, always seeming to know when Kane needed time to take things in. When he felt he had done so, Kane said, "Alright. So... how does that help us?"
Jack sighed. "I'm not sure it does, actually. We have more understanding now, yes, but it gives us no knowledge of what to do next. It would help perhaps if the other scholars would listen to me."
Kane frowned. He rolled to his side, propping himself on one elbow, looking over at Jack, whose gaze was focused up at the clouds. "They won't even talk to you? But you're a genius!"
Jack's eyes flicked toward him, then back to the sky. The mage shrugged.
Kane sat up, gesturing with his arms as he spoke. He knew his father had the same habit, but it was one he just couldn't seem to break. It helped him keep the growl from his voice as he said, "That's not right! You know that, don't you? Like, if we're supposed to be the Warriors of Light, the fate of the world could be at stake! And they still won't tolerate you long enough to study together?"
Jack looked at Kane then, his eyes seeming amused. "They don't know we're the Warriors of Light. They only have our word for that."
Kane did growl at that. "Your word, you mean. That's the word they don't want to listen to.
Jack shrugged again, a lazy gesture.
"It's not right!" Kane said once more.
"But it's reality," Jack said with a sigh. He sat up, wincing as he rubbed at his ankle.
Kane stopped grumbling when he saw the wince. "I didn't hurt you too badly, did I?"
"It's fine," the mage said, but he had a pinched look to his eyes that spoke of pain.
Kane pushed to his feet, dusting his trousers off, and held out a hand to help Jack up. "Well, come on to breakfast. I'm sure Lena will be there. She can have a look at it for you."
Jack took the offered hand, stumbling a bit as his weight hit that leg, but he recovered quickly. He looked eastward, toward the morning sun, and shook his head. "No. I've been here too long. I really need to get to the library before those scholars take all the books I wanted."
Kane sighed. "Alright. But don't study all day without eating again."
Jack waved him off, and wandered back toward the path. Kane watched him go, watched him walk with a slight limp - very slight, but Kane still felt guilty about it - then gathered the practice swords and headed off himself, cutting through the woods back to the Randells' cottage.
He thought of Jack, that lazy shrug he'd given. Kane couldn't understand Jack sometimes. The people of Crescent Lake had mistreated him for years - mistreated him still - in a way that Kane knew would have infuriated him, and yet Jack was so... resigned to it. Kane thought back to his own childhood. The nobles of Cornelia had accepted him for his father's sake. Kane had always known he wasn't one of them, but they had treated him kindly. Jack, though, had grown up among his own kind, and yet these mages... They struck at Jack's existence with every gesture, every word. How exhausting, Kane thought, shifting the practice swords under his arm, to go through life constantly blocking strikes.
Thad skulked among the library shelves, sneaking, avoiding the scholars and their debates, avoiding the office in the corner where he knew Orin sat studying with Pearl. Thad had his own task today. He checked the history section, the books on Leifenish politics, looking for a title he'd seen. It should be just around the-
He stopped as he turned a corner to the next aisle where one of the scholars, a woman in a black robe, looked through the very book he'd been searching for. He knew her face by now; she worked at the table three over and one down from the one where he'd set up Sarda. The sages had agreed to let the old prophet draw and see what came of it, but Thad had his own ideas in that regard.
He waited, checking often behind him to make sure no one else was coming, and watched as the woman flipped through the book. With luck, she would decide she didn't need it and reshelve it before she wandered off.
Eventually, she closed the book and added it to a stack on a nearby shelf, clearly intending to take it back to her table. Thad cursed under his breath - a new Leifenish swear he'd heard one of the scholars use - and bided his time. When the woman crossed the aisle to scan the shelves on the other side, her back to her stack of books, Thad Hasted himself, zipped over, and snatched the book from the top of her tidy pile before hurrying back to Sarda.
Thankfully, the old prophet was still where Thad had left him. Thad had Hasted him, too, in the hopes the man would draw faster, but it had occurred to him afterward that it meant the old man could wander farther and faster should he get it into his crazy head to do so. Oh, well, Thad thought, rolling with the risk. It wasn't as if he had the ability to Dispel it himself. Sarda looked up from his latest drawing and smiled vacantly. "Oh, you're back! I thought you'd boarded the airship for Leifen?"
"Not yet," Thad said, though he had no idea what Sarda was talking about. The old man said strange things sometimes. Thad was learning to roll with that too. "We have more studying to do. Here," he handed Sarda the book he'd appropriated. "This one's got a whole section on Titus's policies. Have a look at it."
Sarda nodded, continuing to smile, then he took the book and held it before him in both hands as he stared at the cover.
Thad sighed. "I meant inside. Have a look inside. Read it."
"Oh! Oh, yes, of course!" Sarda said, laying the book on the table and opening it, running a finger down the table of contents in a sudden show of clarity.
Thad rolled his eyes. So the old man was back in the present, for now at least. Thad was getting better at reading man's state of mind. As Sarda read, Thad surveyed the library, the scholars at their tables, making sure none of them were looking too hard in his direction, looking too closely at the books surrounding Sarda.
He'd had the thought sometime in the middle of the night: although Sarda said he couldn't control what he saw in the aether, maybe Thad could nudge him along. After all, Sarda had drawn the picture of Titus and Diemetrius right after he'd read a story about them. Maybe if he was actively thinking about a person or event, he was more likely to see them?
So Thad had brought Sarda to the library, setting him up with an inkwell and a stack of paper while Thad fed him a constant supply of books about Titus. Of course, the other scholars were already using those books, given Jack's discovery that Melmond's Lord Eldieme might have been Titus's fiend, so Thad had resorted to stealing whatever titles he could when the scholars weren't looking. He'd even resorted to using books that only mentioned Titus in a chapter or two, some that were blatantly fiction. Still Sarda hadn't drawn anything useful.
So far, no one had commented on Sarda's presence. No one seemed to care. Thad was sure that would change if they noticed the books he was using. Maybe I should have sat closer to Jack, Thad thought. Jack's table was far from theirs, farther from the shelves. No one looked in that direction. But Thad knew his own frequent trips to the stacks would have attracted attention by now if he had had to cross the entire room every time.
Feeling confident that no one was looking too closely at his activities, Thad looked back at his own table. Sarda had set aside a pile of books for Thad to put away. Thad looked it over. A couple were heading back to the shelves - those would be easy - but many needed to go to tables that were currently full of mages. Thad narrowed his eyes, surveying the library layout once more, making his plans. He liked a challenge.
But first, he needed a break. He sat at the table and looked over Sarda's drawings. He had to peel some of them apart, as they'd been stacked before the ink had dried, and a few were smudged, but the images were clear enough. The first few he saw were of Titus and Griever but most of them were from other stories. There was that rabbit again, for example. And that one was clearly Ffamran, which Thad didn't mind.
He found one of a tall, stately woman, her long hair in dozens of braids. She wore a slim, floor-length gown, which was odd considering she seemed to be in a swamp rather than a ballroom, her hand raised as she cast a spell at what looked like a full grown ochu. "Who's this supposed to be?" Thad asked.
Sarda glanced up at the drawing, then down at his book again. "The great sorceress Shiva, reclaiming the Lhusu Mines."
"Oh, neat!" Thad said. Yes, he could see it now. He'd never seen Shiva portrayed without Ffamran and Ifrit before, nor had he seen her portrayed in such detail. Sarda's drawing made her look like a real person instead of an illustration. Thad liked that. He loved the Ffamran stories, but, as with the stories of King Titus the Third, parts of them didn't seem like they could be real. But if Shiva had been real, real enough for Sarda to draw, maybe the rest could be too.
Thad folded the image over and put it in his pocket with the one of Pappy and Gram. He flipped through a few more, but none seemed relevant to their project. There was a dragon that might have been Bahamut - admittedly, impressive - and a serpent that was definitely Leviathan. There was a battle scene he couldn't place, several people he didn't recognize.
When he came to drawing of the women having a picnic, he'd had enough. "Sarda!" he snapped. "You've got to be kidding me! What is this?"
"Hmm?" Sarda looked up, his gaze already fogging over again. Whenever he was present, he didn't stay that way for long. "Oh, yes. That's for Jack."
Thad rolled his eyes so hard he felt it in the back of his head. "Oh, it's for Jack. That's great. That's really nice." He snapped his fingers in front of Sarda's face, clearing the fog from his eyes. "Sarda! Come on!" He lowered his voice to a whispering hiss. "I don't know how much longer I can keep stealing books for you. We're going to get caught! Focus! We need to know more about Titus and the fiend! The sword? Remember?"
Sarda blinked, surprised, but his eyes were clear again. "Oh! Ah! Quite right! Yes! Yes, I'm sorry!" He looked down at the book again. "I really am sorry! You know I try! It's just all too much!"
Thad sighed. "I know." He was already starting to feel bad for snapping at the old man.
"You've been more than patient with me, young man. Please know that I appreciate that."
Thad shrank into his seat. Oh, he definitely felt bad for snapping at him now. He almost apologized for it, but Sarda had already returned his attention to the book, and Thad worried about distracting him again. Instead he stood, gathering the pile of books Sarda had finished so that he could put them back where they belonged.
Sarda looked up at him. "Would you take that drawing to Jack for me? I would hate for it to get lost in the shuffle."
"Sure," Thad said, adding the picnic picture to his pile of books.
He wove among the tables, looking for all the world as if he were simply carefully picking his route through the crowd of scholars and tables and chairs, though in reality he was delivering books to - he hoped - unsuspecting mages who hadn't even noticed the volumes were missing.
By the time he reached Jack's table, he had only two books left to return, along with the drawing. To his surprise, Jack had only a handful of books himself: the one he'd stolen from Astos, a volume Thad knew to be from the necromancy section, and two others Thad didn't know. Jack was reading one of those. He didn't look up at Thad's approach so Thad sat down and opened the other, a holy book about Titan. He flipped through it, scanning the pages, but there were no pictures in this one and the writing was very small. "What's this for, then? Are they not letting you use the books about Titus either?"
Jack glanced up. "No, I- Well, yes, actually. They've been stubborn about that now that Redden's not around to bully them. But I'm checking something else." He closed the book, his finger marking his page as he showed Thad the title on the cover: The Realms of Gods and Men. "We know Titan was present when King Titus defeated Diemetrius. But we also know - and it isn't widely known - that Titan was - is - an eidolon."
"A what?" Thad said.
"An aether beast."
"I still don't know what that means."
Jack sighed. "A being born of extreme concentrations of aether. Made of aether. Sustained by aether."
"Oh," Thad said. "That sounds important...?"
"He wasn't a god, Thad. The great god Titan was not, in fact, a god."
"Oh!" Thad said, meaning it this time. "Oh! That sounds bad! That sounds like something this lot wouldn't like: telling them their god isn't a god."
"Yes," Jack said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "That had crossed my mind. Luckily, there are very few Titan worshipers here, and none among the sages. It's possible the sages would consider the revelation of little interest."
Thad nodded. It made sense. After all, it made no difference to him if Titan was a god or not. But he remembered all those people he'd seen gathering for prayers in Titan's Cathedral back in Melmond. What would they say if he told them Titan wasn't a god? He remembered, further back, visiting the church of Leviathan with Gram. Thad wasn't religious, but he tried to imagine anyone telling his grandmother that Leviathan was little more than a magical sea snake. "Um... Jack? What about the other gods?"
"I don't know," Jack said, sighing. "But I told you about Asura's tomb? How we found her body there?"
Thad nodded, then stopped as the implication hit him. "Was she an eidolon, too?"
Jack nodded.
Two gods who weren't gods. That didn't mean all of them were eidolons, but two out of... how many? Thad didn't know. But he suspected the sages wouldn't like that math. "Oh, they're gonna hate you. They're gonna hate you a lot."
"Just a normal day for me then." He glanced at the items Thad had set on the table. Sarda's drawing, plainly visible, rested on top of the books. The four women in the picture lounged in various poses around a blanket spread with platters of fruit and bread. They wore old fashioned robes, almost like a white mage usually wore but without the bands at the cuffs and hems. They seemed to be in a garden, though the edges of a structure were visible in the background; whether it was only a garden wall or a whole building, Thad couldn't say. Jack cocked his head, and Thad was surprised at what seemed to be genuine interest in Jack's voice when he said, "What do you have there, Thad?"
"It's for you, actually," Thad said, handing it over. "Sarda said he drew it for you."
Jack took it, looking it over, and then his eyes widened. "Oh," he said, an almost dream-like sigh, as he reached up to touch one of the women in the picture, his gloved hand caressing the page.
"You know them?" Thad asked.
Jack shook his head. His voice soft and reverent, he said, "No... at least, not all of them. This one... This one was my mother."
"That's nice," Thad said. He knew Jack had been small when he lost his family. Not that Jack had told him, but he'd picked up on that fact somewhere. Thad hadn't been that small when he'd lost his Gram, and it hadn't been that long ago, but even still he'd been overjoyed to see her again in the picture Sarda had made for him. He couldn't imagine how Jack must feel, seeing his mother's face again after such a long time.
"It is," Jack said. His voice now sounded scratchy. Thad saw the glitter of tears in his eyes and decided Jack probably needed a moment alone.
"I'm going to go put these away," he said, standing as he slid his books off the table and into his hands.
Jack nodded, but didn't otherwise respond, still looking at the picture.
Thad wove through the tables toward the stacks, casually glancing at the books the other mages were studying as he passed by. A few rested on the edges of the tables, or sat waiting in little stacks as their owners read other volumes. Thad managed to steal two of them for himself without attracting any notice. He only hoped he'd stolen more relevant ones this time.
Something had changed. Redden knew his son was perfectly capable of being charming - the boy had been raised in a palace, after all, companion to a princess - but now, he faced the sages with a surly, confrontational air. Kane answered their questions, yes, but his every response seemed to have only one goal: to remind his questioners of the black mage they were trying so hard to forget.
"And that was when Jack realized the crown wasn't cursed," Kane said, recounting events from their time in Elfheim. "He said he could see the spells in it that caused the elves' Divine Right of Kings."
Around the edges of the room, the sages murmured to each other. Redden watched them from his seat beside his son. Dahlia sat near Randell at the head of the circle, on a wooden stool behind the sage's chair and off to one side. Many of the sages had such stools for those times their apprentices joined them in meetings, though most were empty now. Only two others were occupied, the young scribes seated in them transcribing Kane's words.
Randell rubbed his temples with one hand as his wife whispered into his ear. "I know," Randell said quietly, but loud enough that Redden heard it from the middle of the room. "Let me work, woman." He raised his other hand to signal the need for silence, then spoke loudly, addressing the room at large. "Yes, I imagine Jack would have seen that quite clearly. As would any other black mage with the ability to read the aether." The other sages quieted at that emphasis, that reminder that so far nothing Kane had described in his tale attributed more power to Jack than was expected.
But Kane hasn't covered the half of it, yet, Redden thought.
The interview progressed so slowly. Redden hadn't quite realized just how close his son had grown with Jack over their journey, how often the two were together when events went sideways. To hear Kane tell it, Jack was a hero. Jack had saved Kane from Garland's last spell, Jack had been the one to earn Matoya's trust and enlist her aid, Jack had been the one to save Pravoka's guards from their enchanted sleep and thereby save the city. Kane glossed over his own role in those events. To Redden, it was obvious. To the sages, it was infuriating.
"Go on, young man," Randell said with an annoyed sigh.
Kane nodded. "So then Jack realized Astos was still casting the curse - holding it, he said. We worried Astos would come after us if we waited for father to wake up, so Jack said he would go and face Astos alone. I told him that was suicide, and he said it didn't matter if he died trying, as long as he distracted Astos long enough to disrupt the spell."
More murmuring at that. Randell barked, "Quiet! All of you!" He took what looked like a long, calming breath. "Clearly, Jack didn't die in the attempt...?"
"Right," Kane said. "I went with him. We had planned for Jack to cast a sleep spell on Astos and then I would kill him. But the spell didn't take. We had to fight."
"And you slew Astos yourself?"
"No, that was Jack."
The sages erupted, all talking at once, some shouting. Randell didn't even attempt to silence them. Redden heard more than one of them mention the Black Mage's Oath.
Kane slouched in his chair at the center of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, his face a mask of contempt. "With a dagger, you morons!" he bellowed over the noise.
The sages gradually fell quiet again, many of them looking at Kane in shock for his shouted insult.
"Careful, son,"Redden whispered."Don't want to turn them against you, too."
Kane nodded acknowledgement to Redden before he continued. "With a dagger," Kane said in an even tone. "While I writhed in pain as Astos drew from me. When Jack was already in pain from being drawn on himself. He struggled to his feet with no magic to aid him and put a knife in Astos's gut."
The sages quieted again. Gods, but it was obvious - to Redden at least - that they were looking for any excuse to vilify Jack. It must have been obvious to his son as well, judging from Kane's smug expression when his comment shut them up.
There was a long moment of silence. Finally, one of the sages, an older man in pristine black robes whose name was Myron, snapped, "Well? What happened next?"
"We left," Kane said. "We hiked through the Groves back to Elfheim, where we learned that breaking the curse hadn't healed the prince."
Redden shifted uncomfortably, suppressing the urge to sit up a little straighter in his seat. Well… That wasn't the version of events Kane had told him before. Jack had killed Astos, yes, but there had also been some kind of ritual - Astos had meant to sacrifice Kane in it - and Jack had Teleported them out before the ritual could take effect, draining himself in the process. Redden knew, because Jack had told him much later, that the ritual had been one of dark magic, but he suspected Kane didn't know that.
The sages didn't know any of that either. Lena and Thad wouldn't have described the ritual in their interviews - they hadn't been there. Randell nodded, not seeming to see anything amiss with Kane's tale, the missing parts of the story excised too perfectly to raise comment. Randell turned to another sage, Mistress Fiona, her chair two seats over from his. "Fi? Does that sound right?"
Fiona nodded. "It does. Curses are almost self-sustaining after a year or two. After five? The prince would have died for sure without constant healing."
The other sages nodded acceptance at her words. An expert on curses, Redden thought. Interesting. These mages looked on necromancy with pure revulsion, but considered curses a safe topic of scholarship? He really would have to do a more thorough search of that library of theirs.
"Carry on," Randell said.
Kane resumed his tale, describing the increased security at the elven castle and their meeting with the elf mage, Gollor. "And then we got to thinking - well, it was Jack's idea - that an elixir might break the curse."
The sages argued again, but Kane held firm, his gaze confidently travelling the room, making eye contact with each sage in turn, but Redden knew he was lying. The elixir hadn't been Jack's idea: they'd found it in Astos's book, the one Kane had been holding when Jack Teleported them out. Gollor had been able to read enough of it to make out Astos's curse described within its pages, along with the mention of elixirs as a counter-curse.
Jack still had that book. Redden had looked it over, but he hadn't understood most of it. Not only was it in high Leifenish, precursor language to the dead Leifenish language, but the spells within it had been too advanced for him. He hadn't had time, given the events in Melmond, to study the book further. Jack, though… Redden knew Jack studied it obsessively.
Now that Redden thought about it… Astos's ritual was in that book, wasn't it? Jack had said he would tell Redden if he managed to figure out what it was for. Redden had assumed, what with one thing and another, that Jack hadn't figured it out yet, that it had been too advanced even for Jack. Did Jack know more than he'd let on?
Kane was still speaking. Redden tried to focus. He'd missed the part about Jack Teleporting Thad to safety, journeying back to Matoya's cave.
"And when he wasn't brewing the elixir, he used the orb to steer the ship," Kane said.
"This is ridiculous!" Graham said when Kane paused. "Ochu are extinct! This entire tale borders on fantasy!"
"Is it possible this witch, this Matoya, had an ancient elixir stocked away among her things?" Wrede, the white mage, said.
Redden saw Kane's eyes narrow. Wrede liked Jack, Redden knew, but even he doubted the elixir's true origins. "Jack brewed that elixir himself," Kane said, articulating each word. "From an ochu - in a pot - that he got from Matoya. I had to put up with the blasted thing for weeks after that. It's name was Oscar. It tried to eat me more than once!"
"I've no doubt you saw what you thought was an ochu," said Myron, his voice oily and condescending. "But did you see Jack brew the elixir?"
"If you think-!" Kane started but Randell snapped, "That's enough!" The old sage looked daggers at his colleague. "We're not here to argue. We're here to hear what Kane has to say." He turned back to Kane. "But we would appreciate it if you were to stick to the parts of the narrative you were present for, young man."
"Right," Kane said. He blew out a breath, as though calming himself down. "You're right. I'm sorry." He pursed his lips in thought, looking down at the floor. "Hmm..."
Redden winced. He knew Kane's tone too well. Kane's anger had transitioned to cooperation far too easily.
"What did you do while Jack was gone?" Randell prompted.
"Yes," Kane nodded. "Jack was gone. It was just me and Lena. Lena spent the whole time Curing the prince. I was with her for much of that time. Nothing of note happened for several days. But then the elves captured us as supposed spies. They took us before the king." He paused dramatically. The sages leaned forward in their seats, anticipating the climactic confrontation when Eldarin ordered Lena's death; they would already have heard the story from Lena herself.
The dramatic pause lasted a bit too long, though. Here it comes, Redden thought.
"Yes?" Myron said. "What happened next?"
Kane's smile was almost cruel. "Well, then Jack returned nearly a week earlier than expected. And he had an elixir, from somewhere, that he used to heal the prince. And he saved us in the nick of time. I was definitely there for that part."
Myron snapped, "Why you insolent-" but the rest of his sentence was drowned out by the reactions of the other sages and Randell calling for order. Kane seemed unaffected by the uproar he'd caused, sitting in his chair in the room's center, arms crossed over his chest, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He caught Redden's eye beside him and raised a questioning eyebrow.
Redden couldn't help but smile. It wasn't how he would have done it, sure, but he was proud of Kane for standing up for his friends. He gave his son an approving nod and watched as that smirk blossomed into a genuine smile.
Redden chuckled as Randell tried to bring order to the room. Yes, his son could be charming. But the boy could be bloody stubborn as well.
It was near sunset when Kane walked out of that chamber, dismissed by the angry sages. He'd cooperated the day before, using his sword to split rocks for them over and over, but he'd be damned if he cooperated while they tried to erase Jack from the events that had led them there. He'd steered every question away from himself, toward what Jack had done. The sages clearly hadn't liked that. Kane hadn't cared.
He walked toward the lake. Hadn't Lena said something about machina at the docks? Toy boats? He was certainly curious, though he debated just going back to the Randells' empty house and getting some rest. Who knew that talking all day could be so tiring? The sages were still at it, Randell and the others continuing their discussions in private, though both Dahlia and Kane's father had stayed behind as well. Kane had fled the moment he was released.
The path was longer than it looked from town, the trees making it seem deceptively short. The lake didn't seem to get any closer until he finally broke through the trees and suddenly he was there, the shore spreading out on either side, scattered with docks and little canoes. He saw the boys Lena had mentioned, and Lena among them, but they were already on the shore, waving their goodbyes to each other as they headed both north and south. A couple approached Kane, carrying bundles that must have been their machina. Kane wanted to introduce himself and ask about the boats, but they passed him on the path back to town without acknowledging him.
When they'd gone, he looked back toward the docks, where Lena stood chatting with the last of the boys, laughing at something he said. Hugging him. The boy - a young man really, as tall as Kane, and shirtless besides - hugged her back then departed, waving as he went south along the lake shore.
Lena smiled after him, then smiled wider when she saw Kane on the path. "Hi!" she called brightly as he closed the distance between them.
"Hey," Kane said, keeping his tone light. "I suppose I missed all the fun?"
She ducked her head sheepishly, damp curls swinging around her face. Her white hood was mostly dry, save for a few spots that had soaked through from touching wet clothing underneath. She'd been swimming. "I'm sorry! If I'd known you were coming I could have asked them to stay longer."
"No worries," he said. "I'm tired anyway. Want to walk back to the Randells' with me and raid the larder?"
She nodded.
Kane offered her his arm, only realizing when she hesitated that she usually walked that way with Jack. An empty, polite gesture, yet Jack had turned it into a romantic one.
Lena must have realized it too, for she laughed, shaking her head, then took the offered arm, resting her hand in the crook of his elbow.
They'd reached the path back to town before Kane's curiosity got the better of him. "So who was that?"
"Oh, that was Tylen," Lena said looking up at him, smile still in place. "Or Stokes. He likes his friends to call him Stokes."
"Are you?" Kane asked bluntly. "Friends, I mean."
Her smile wavered, faded. She looked down at the path as they walked. She shrugged. "I guess? I suppose? He is very friendly."
"Yeah, I gathered that," Kane grumbled, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.
She sighed, and he didn't have to be looking at her to know she was rolling her eyes at him. "It was only a hug, Kane."
"But Jack-" He stopped. But Jack what?
"Yes?" Lena said, in a tone that said, "Exactly."
Kane soldiered on. "It's- well- Surely you know how he feels about you?"
"I do," she said quietly.
They walked on in silence. Oaf, Kane thought to himself. Clumsy, useless oaf. He kept glancing down at her, wondering if he'd hurt her feelings, but her face remained blank, her eyes on the ground.
She almost startled him when she spoke again, he'd grown so used to the silence. "Jack is avoiding me again," she said softly.
"He's been busy," Kane said, quick to defend.
"I know," Lena said. "But when we're together, he won't touch me - won't even look at me."
Kane frowned. "You know how he gets sometimes, with his magic. Just because he can't show how he feels doesn't change what it is."
"I know, but..."
He looked down at her again, noticed she'd blushed crimson. "But?"
"It's selfish," she whispered.
He sighed in exasperation. "You've pledged your life to serving mankind forever. I think you're entitled to a little selfishness."
That at least earned him a small smile. She kicked idly at a pebble in their path. "It's…" She shook her head. "I know it's hard for him, Kane, but it's hard for me too. The people here… they don't like us… I know Jack needs space, but I need… I need to feel… something other than disdain…" Her voice was shaky.
Kane stopped, turned her to face him. Oh gods, was she crying? It was so hard to tell with her sometimes, but her lip was trembling, her breathing unsteady. "Hey!" he said, folding her in his arms. "Lena... We're all in this together, alright? I'm here for you."
"I know," she squeaked against his chest. "I know you are."
But I'm not Jack, he thought. He held her as her shoulders shook, as she wept almost silently. He wasn't Jack, but maybe he could beat some sense into him.
He hadn't said a word to her at dinner, hadn't held her hand as they walked back to Lukahn's in the dark. She'd walked with Sarda and Thad while Jack kept a few paces ahead of them, lighting the path-side lanterns as he went.
I'm here for you, she wanted to say. Whatever's on your mind, I want to hear it. Please, tell me what's wrong.
She held her tongue.
She listened as Thad and Sarda discussed the stacks of papers Thad carried, Sarda's drawings. They'd given Lena a lovely image of Leviathan in his guise as a great serpent, but most of the drawings seemed to be people, figures from history, events from stories. She didn't pay much attention as they talked.
At Lukahn's, they passed the old man already asleep in his armchair on their way upstairs. Jack remained silent as he went up the narrow stairs that led to his attic room, the room he now shared with Thad. Thad watched him go, making a face over his armload of papers.
"He's in a mood, isn't he?" Thad said.
Lena nodded. She could feel Thad's reluctance to follow Jack when he seemed so unfriendly. "Would you like to show me the pictures?" she asked, motioning Thad into Iris's room.
Thad smiled wide. "Yeah!" he said. "They're great! I bet you couldn't see them very well outside, could you? Wait til you see the one of Ffamran and his ship!"
"Shh," she said, closing the door behind him. "Not so loud."
They sat on the floor, papers spread out on the braided rag rug. The candle from the nightstand sat between them, the room's only light. Lena listened, periodically making sounds of awe and appreciation as Thad told her the stories that accompanied the illustrations, most of which she'd heard before.
"This is the only one of Diemetrius, though," Thad was saying. "I thought if I could get Sarda to draw him, to draw more things about him, maybe we could prove he was really Eldieme, but you can't tell with his skin on."
Lena chuckled. "People don't look much like their skulls."
"Yeah," Thad said, sighing dejectedly. "I'm going to try to get him to think about the sword next. I found a book about swordsmanship. I was surprised they even had..." He trailed off, head cocked. It was several seconds before Lena heard the footsteps descending the stairs, passing their door, heading down.
"I was surprised they even had a book about swords," Thad continued. "They use their magic for everything here. Even the big guys they use as guards at the Circle Chamber are just mages with sticks. But if we can get Sarda to show us where the sword came from-" He stopped abruptly this time at a raised voice from downstairs.
It seemed Lukahn was awake. The floor muffled his words, but Lena could feel his anger.
She could feel Jack's anger as he shouted something back, and that alarmed her, not because she could feel their emotions at such a distance - that was nothing unusual - but because it was Jack. She could barely feel Jack's emotions when she stood right next to him. What could they possibly be arguing about that would unleash such a response from him?
She could stop it. She knew Lukahn would listen to her. She hoped Jack would as well. She stood, intent on going downstairs to do just that, but when she opened the door, Jack's voice drifted up the stairs, no longer muffled by the house.
"If I were going to destroy this place, I'd have done it by now! Anything to be free of you!"
Lena flinched at the echoing crash that followed - had they attacked each other? - but it was only the sound of a door slamming. Behind her, Thad whimpered loudly. She felt his fear then as her own began to ease, something in Thad's past that reacted to the raised voices. She hurried back to his side, wrapped her arms around him. "Shh," she said. "You're alright. It was only shouting. They've stopped now."
"I'm sorry!" he said.
"You've nothing to be sorry for," she said as he cried, trembling as she held him. She opened her senses, her soul sight, trying to find the source of his fear, to fix it, to help.
She gasped as awareness flooded into her, not of Thad, but of... everything. She could sense Lukahn downstairs, Sarda in the other room, an owl in the rafters... There was life outside, in the forest that surrounded the house. She could sense the lake in the distance. What was this? When had her senses expanded like this?
It frightened her. She withdrew from her soul sight, shoved it down. She couldn't think of this now. Thad needed her…
And… And Jack needed her. She sensed him out there as her soul sight faded, sensed him stalking off into the night, sensed him fighting through his own anger, fighting to force it down. She followed him with her senses until she lost track of him somewhere near the lake, and though her heart went with him, the rest of her stayed behind, comforting the frightened boy.
Author's Note: 11/6/20 - Well, it's only taken 60+ chapters and hundreds of thousands of words, but it seems like people are finally finding this story. I'm getting new readers every month, if the stats are to be believed. I'm constantly amazed that so many of you take the time out of your days to read this story I've made up in my head. Thank you, readers! I know some of you haven't actually played FFI and are coming into this story blind, so no spoilers, but I'm very excited to share the next few chapters with you. One of my favorite action scenes is coming up, and we're going to hear a whole lot more eidolon theory before we get out of Crescent Lake. I'm spending my NaNoWriMo this year making plans for the rest of the book. Stay tuned!