A shiver crawled across Sam’s skin. His hand twitched involuntarily as he turned a page in the book he was reading. He frowned and pulled his coat in tighter around him.
Majestic as it was, the library in Spire Castle was abominably cold when the fire wasn’t burning. Sam scowled darkly over his book at the lifeless hearth. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t do anything. He had half a heart to call a servant to put the fire on, but thought better of it. Dallus Gardarrion hated heat in the mornings if it wasn’t due to either his bed or his bath. Any change to the routine resulted in a scathing telling off.
Perhaps if it had been anyone else, Sam would have been indignant at such a scolding. Dallus, however, had a firm place of respect for Sam. When no-one else would so much as offer him a bed, Dallus had taken Sam in as his ward and student-something he hadn’t done, it turned out, in nearly twenty years.
This, naturally, didn’t really change the fact that the library, with all its high ceilings and stone walls, was perhaps the coldest part of the castle. Study, however, had to be done.
Sam sighed and turned another page in his book. It was a close critical discussion of The Last of Us, and so far all Sam had learned was that he had an intense dislike for Wyn Dravick, the author. He threw the book down on the table in front of him and leant back into his seat.
“Deliver me from this drudgery,” he muttered to himself, eyes closed.
A low chuckle echoed from behind him. Sam started. A reply followed. “And to which of the Nine do you pray, Sam?”
Sam blushed slightly. “I-sir, I apologize for my outburst.”
With a soft sigh, Dallus eased himself into the armchair beside Sam. “No need to apologize, dear boy. I take it you find the book tedious?”
He grimaced. “Er… If I didn’t know better, I’d say yes, but all scholarly studies have merit, right?”
Dallus smiled. “I’ve taught you well. Wyn Dravick is a particularly notorious example of scholarly droning. Nevertheless, his works are pertinent to any who seek to understand the finer intricacies of philosophy.” He glanced at Sam. “Which is precisely why I set it for you to read. So far, how would you respond to what Dravick has said?”
Sam frowned thoughtfully. “I… Well… His ideas have merit, but…”
“But?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s improper.”
Dallus smiled knowingly. “Ah. I see. Speak, boy. Let your thoughts be heard.”
Though his face was a look of discomfort, Sam spoke. “I’m afraid to sound ignorant, but it seems to me as though all Dravick wanted to do with his discussion of The Last of Us was discount it, discredit it.” He looked up at Dallus uncertainly. “But surely that can’t be true. He’s a scholar, not an arrogant atheist.”
To his utter surprise, Dallus burst out laughing. “Oh, Gods, boy, that’s exactly what Dravick is! You haven’t studied many other pieces of his, have you?”
Sam shook his head. “No, sir. Are you sure he is? I thought I was, well…”
“Letting your beliefs get in the way of your thoughts? A little at first, perhaps, but no more than any normal scholar would. You, at least, had the sense to give him room to breathe. Many others who hold their faith in the Nine don’t even give him that.”
Sam nodded, but his face was still uncertain. “If you say so, sir. Shall I continue reading that, then?”
Dallus shook his head. “No, I won’t require that of you. That was a simple exercise to test your perceptive skills. I think we’re done for today.”
“What?” Sam asked with shock. “But sir! It’s so early, are you sure?”
Dallus wagged a finger at him. “Careful, lad, I might change my mind. You have the day off. Do whatever you like. Visit the village, perhaps?” He smiled cheekily. “You could pay a visit to that girl of yours.”
Sam blushed deep red. “Sir! She isn’t ‘mine’! And besides, she’s already courting someone.” Too late, Sam realized what he’d said as Dallus laughed even louder. Half scowling, half smiling, he stood with book in hand. “I’ll have you know, old man, that my interests in her are purely platonic. Gods above, sir…”
Still laughing, Dallus waved him off. “Go! Go and enjoy yourself before you dig that hole any further.”
It was not without apprehension that Sam left Spire Castle. Outside the walls, the chill was even bitterer. As he walked down the path to the stables, he glanced upward and noted that the sky was completely bereft of cloud cover. He frowned. “That’s why it’s so damnably cold.”
The mud squelched underfoot. The storm from the night before had blown itself out by morning, it seemed, leaving behind huge puddles of murky water. Sam grimaced as he edged around one. Something was nagging at his thoughts, quietly persistent in setting his mind on edge. It was the sense of having forgotten something, something important. He furrowed his brow, walking backward through his memories of the morning.
With a gasp, he figured it out. He’d forgotten to pray.
Sam almost turned back right then and there. He hesitated though, remembering that there were shrines to the Nine in the village. He checked in his pockets; yes, there was enough to buy an offering for the Nine on top of what he already planned to purchase. With a groan he walked faster to the stables, hoping that a horse was saddled and ready.
Keress sat on one of the stable gates waiting for him when he arrived. “Ready, lad?” A horse-and-wagon stood outside.
Sam nodded gratefully. “Did Dallus send word ahead?”
Keress nodded with a scowl. “Damnation but I hate it when telemancers poke in my head. Hurts something awful if they don’t do it right.” He stood up with little flourish and even less stature. Sam, tall by nature, felt like a giant as he waited for Keress to take his seat at the front of the cart. “Hope riding with me doesn’t demean you, your lordliness.”
A retort had already half formed in Sam’s mouth before he saw the crafty grin on Keress’ face. “You dog,” Sam said, laughing.
Keress cracked a stick on the horse’s rump. “Move, horsey,” he grunted. “Damned thing. Insolent to the last. Reminds me a little of my brother, but then…”
Sam closed his eyes, letting Keress’ words wash over him. The old equestrian had a special fondness for talking, and it didn’t seem to matter him if his audience was listening or not. The air was still sharp, but the morning sun on his skin was a delightful contrast. And despite the hard wooden seat he was on, despite the tang to the air, Sam soon found himself drifting off to sleep…
And in between one heartbeat and the next, he opened his eyes to a café. The familiar surroundings of Jahzi, all vibrant colours and wide windows, burst into life around him. Sam glanced down, hoping… But no, there it was. An iced moccachino, single shot, extra chocolate and ice cream. Funny, Sam thought to himself, how I always remember the little things.
The bell to the café tinkled. For a moment, Sam considered leaving then and there, perhaps ending the dream. Yet he couldn’t resist it, that yearning. After all those years, it was still there.
She walked in, light brown hair tied up in a ponytail, her eyes immediately drawn to their customary corner. Sam raised a hand to her, a smile on his face. It’s just a dream, he thought to himself. Don’t lose yourself in it.
Too late. As she walked over, Sam stood, making to pull her into a hug. Instead, she reached her hands around his neck and pulled his head down, drawing him into a kiss. Her cinnamon scent filled his thoughts, her soft lips under his sending a tingling through him he’d denied for so long. She pulled away slightly, but he held her for a moment more, hungering for her.
At last, he let her go. She looked at him, her eyes dancing with laughter. It was that gentle mocking humour that first drew Sam to her, the first thing anyone would notice. Two swirling swathes of green with flecks of gold like stars stared up at him. “Miss me, huh?”
He grinned, sitting back down. She sat opposite him, waving over a waiter. “Iced chocolate, please. And if I taste so much as a speck of coffee, well, you know what’ll happen, don’t you?”
The waiter smiled slightly at the comment. He’d once made the mistake of giving her iced coffee instead of chocolate. Suffice to say, it had not gone well. “Right you are, ma’am. Anything else?”
She glanced over at Sam. “Hungry?”
Despite himself, he grinned lewdly. She feinted a smack at him. “Dirty git. I didn’t mean that.” She turned to the waiter. “Sorry, you know how he is. I’d like a blueberry muffin, thank you. And please, be sparing with the icing sugar. I hate it when it goes down my front.”
The waiter laughed as he scribbled it down on a notepad. “Muffin and coffee. Got it.” She glared. He walked away chuckling.
“So, Maia. How’re your studies?”
Maia snorted. “Inane as ever. Half the men at the university think it’s no place for a girl, another third prefer to stare at my chest than talk to me-“ She paused. Sam had allowed a dark frown to pass over his face. “Oh, sweetheart, it was a joke. Cheer up.”
The waiter walked back over with a plate in one hand and glass in the other. Maia took them with a smile before sniffing the chocolate. Satisfied, she nodded at the waiter. A look of relief passed over his face as he walked away. Sam chortled. Maia raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded at the retreating back of the waitron. “You terrify them.”
“If I want my drink a certain way, I think I’m perfectly within my rights to ensure I have it that way,” Maia said mildly, sipping at the chocolate. “Gods, but that’s good. I love this place.” She smiled at him. “You said you wanted to talk?”
Sam tensed. Don’t do this to yourself. It’s just a dream. You can be happy, can’t you? Surely you can let yourself be happy, just once.
No. He had to do it. Hesitantly, he placed the now empty glass back on the table. Sam tried to speak, but found his words caught in his throat. And then, out of nowhere, a voice curled into his thoughts. Come on, Sam. Would it really hurt? Just follow your heart; you know it’s right. He looked up at Maia. Her face was a strange mixture of cute and serious, inquisitive and troubled.
Sam reached into his pocket. He searched for a moment, feeling for it. There. A thin band of cold now rested in his fingers. “I did indeed want to talk to you, Mai. And I promise, it’s good news.”
Her face softened. That’s it, the Voice whispered. Your heart is the way to truth. And you knew it all along.
Sam put his hand on Maia’s, turning it over. Then, with the other hand, he placed the silver band in her hand. “I know it isn’t much, but…”
A movement in the window caught his eye. For a moment, he thought he saw… But no, it couldn’t be that. A chill passed over him as he remembered what really happened that day. No. I choose what happens here.
“Maia, I love you, and I know it’s only been six months, but I just feel… It’s not even really a-“
“Oh, shut it you,” Maia said, smiling. Sam looked up at her, his eyes full of hope. She nodded. “Yes. Yes, I will.”
Sam’s heart soared “Oh… oh, Gods, thank you Mai. Thank you.” His voice choked up in tears.
She smiled at him wryly. “Aren’t I supposed to be the one who’s crying?”
He laughed shakily. “Yes, I suppose. Can we go for a walk?”
Maia nodded. “I think you need it.”
“Oh! I’d better pay for the drinks. And the muffin.” He fished inside his moneypouch, pulling out several coins. They stood and walked to the counter. Sam held out the coins. “Don’t bother with the change. Thanks for the drinks, delicious as always.”
The air outside was warm and humid, a delightful contrast to the life of Atheria Sam knew was waiting for him. He shrugged and took Maia’s hand. “Where shall we go?”
She looked up at him. “Well, who should we tell first? Friends, family or ministers?”
Sam laughed. “I think Father would probably murder me if I didn’t tell him. I have your parents’ permission, so they already know.” A lie, but then who would ever know? It was just a dream. “To Seventh Tower, then.”
Maia lent her head on Sam’s arm. “You know, I don’t think I ever remember being happier than I am now. To think, before we started dating, I thought I’d never trust a guy again.”
Sam laughed loudly. “At fifteen, and your faith in males was already gone? Tell me, Mai, just how badly could you have been screwed over?” She glared at him for a moment, then conceded a smile. He grinned back jovially. “Hah! You smiled. I’m off the hook.”
They walked through one of the multitudes of Singer Squares in Solaris, the capital of Solara. This one was completely unoccupied, and Sam ran out into the center and started to dance. The Singer Stone, sensing the mood, began to warble like a skylark. “Come on, Mai, dance!”
She smiled at him broadly, shaking her head at his ridiculousness.
Sam swirled, his back turning from her.
When he turned back, blood was bubbling out from her mouth. She collapsed to the ground. Sam froze. I… what? This isn’t how it happened.
He ran over to her, the lyrics of the Stone white noise to his shock. “Mai… no, Maia, you have to get up.”
Maia coughed, deep red ichor gushing forth. Her breath gurgled in her throat, then stopped completely. He fell to his knees beside her.
“No, no, no,” Sam whispered urgently. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. MAIA! Oh, Gods, please, don’t die, don’t die, don’t be dead, please oh please don’t be dead.”
The steel tip of the arrow head glinted through her coat.
Tears streaked down his face, but he barely noticed them. “Maia, please, don’t die. You can’t die here, this is only a dream. Live, damnit, LIVE!”
He turned his head to the north. “How can you let this happen? This isn’t how it GOES!”
The Voice pierced through his grief. I made this happen. Now, Awaken, boy, and go forth back into the world, reminded that there are things to live for.
Sam woke up with a gasp as the wagon lurched to a stop. Keress looked at him wryly. “Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty. We’ve arrived.” Sam nodded numbly. Keress looked at him, taking in his troubled and unfocused gaze. “Bad dream, huh?” He nodded. Keress grimaced. “Seems everyone’s dreams have been getting worse these last few months. Almost like something important’s happening.” He winked at Sam. “But of course we don’t in believe such nonsense do we, lordship?”
Sam shook his head and laughed at the old stable master. “Thanks for the lift, Keress.”
Keress raised his cap. “I’ll be waiting here at the second toll past noon, y’hear? Don’t be late, or you’ll have a long walk ahead of you.” With that, he flicked the whip and rode off.
The town Keress had brought Sam to was called Cloverdale. It lay in the heart of the plains of Atheria, and closer to the border than to the capital, Starfell. Technically, it was the property of the owner of Spire Castle. Dallus had been given an unusual gift from the Atherian Council in Spire Castle. That gift was a lordship and land to claim, for him and his first heir. Given that he had not an heir, that right passed on to Sam, Dallus’ ward. This was where Keress got his nickname for Sam. Sam Ward, Lord Heir of Spire Castle: the butt of every one of Keress’ jokes.
He hated it. Not Keress’ jokes; the man was incredibly witty for a stable master. No, it was because he’d fled from Solara precisely because he wanted to avoid becoming a noble. Nevertheless, he had to admit that life under Dallus Gardarrion was quite unlike living as a Solaran aristocrat. For instance, he was allowed to mingle with the common folk-something that would have been expressly forbidden in Seventh Tower.
Cloverdale was a relatively decent sized town. Situated on the High Road, it saw its fair share of travellers and then some. Starting off as a tiny trading outpost, inns and taverns had sprung up around it. Then, as many of the travelling traders had settled down, houses and shops rose as well, until Cloverdale became a respectable, moderately sized town with all its own amenities.
Sam was only really interested in two of said amenities: the Circle of the Nine and the town market, and perhaps… He shook his head ruefully. Yes, to visit her as well.
First and foremost, he had to buy an offering to the Nine. Sam made his way through the haphazard streets, avoiding housewives carrying laundry, horse excrement on the paving and messengers racing through the streets.
All the while, his thoughts were heavy with memories of the dream.
Just that once, he’d let himself to succumb to what he wished had happened. And almost instantly, what he wanted had disintegrated in his hand. It struck him so strongly of the work of Ruin that he quickened his pace toward the town stores. The offering to the Nine could not wait any longer.
At long last he found himself in the market square. Villagers surged to and fro, caught in the rush of mid-morning buying. The food was freshest now, with farmers just arriving with produce from their lands. Sam considered what he would buy as an offering, surveying the range laid out in stalls and stores.
Gold coins could never be offered to the Nine. What good were coins to gods, for the love of the Weeping Wyverns? Although admittedly, the offerings didn’t go to the gods themselves, but instead provided sustenance to their faithful. Dominion, the island citadel to the north, devoted its entire focus to the worship of the Nine. Without it, the Nine would die. It was as simple as that.
The best thing to offer was produce, yes: breads, grains, eggs and milk. Raw meat, but never cooked. Never anything living, though. No saplings, nor shrubs or animals.
It was a strange specification, true, but the priests claimed it a necessary one. Sam had often wondered about how odd it was, and said so out loud. That had resulted in no food for a week, and he’d had to watch it disappear into gold light every night.
There was, however, another type of offering one could give to the Nine: Odic Energy.
Sam slipped into the local deiochemistry, Jezek’s Gems and Amulets. The door opened with a soft whisper.
The inside of the shop was filled with beads of metal strung on necklaces, chunks of gemstones set into jewelry and even wooden amulets. Sam edged cautiously between two precariously stacked shelves and slid up to the counter.
There was no one there. Sam turned to survey the half-light of the tiny shop. No movement shifted in the shadows, no noise cut through the murmur of outside. Sam turned back to the counter with a sigh.
A man half Sam’s size and with about a third the hair stood where nothing had been a moment ago. Wizened face, dark grey hair in a ring around his head, spectacles that looked as though they’d fall off the man’s nose if it hadn’t been broken so many times: it could only have been Jezek. Sam started at his sudden appearance. The slight jerk of his arm pushed a stone off the edge and it tumbled to the floor. Sam lunged for it.
“Oh, stop,” Jezek muttered, pointing his finger at the gem. It floated in midair, then rose and settled back into place on the counter.
Sam glanced from Jezek’s outstretched hand to the stone and back again. “You’re a telemancer?”
The shopkeeper snorted. “You don’t say, lordling.” Sam glanced at him curiously. “Of course I know who you are, fool. Telemancer, as you just pointed out.”
“Oh… right. Of course,” Sam said quietly. He knew the man was being rude, but Sam hated being confrontational. Jezek snorted again. “I’d like to buy something as an offering.”
Jezek smiled. “Well, that I can certainly do, lordling. Although, may I ask-what happened to the traditional bread and butter offering?”
Sam grimaced. “I forgot. And besides, I haven’t made an Odic offering in months.”
Jezek smiled even wider. The effect was disconcerting. “Well then, I suppose you’d be looking for an even bigger than normal offering, wouldn’t you?”
Bugger, Sam thought. He was terrible at haggling. It mostly came down to the fact that he found it so hard to say no to people. “Yes, of course.”
“Well then,” Jezek said, hopping off his stool. “Follow me.”
Sam did as bid, following the diminutive man to one of the myriad cabinets in the shop. Although they all looked the same, Jezek stopped very specifically in front of a cabinet filled with glittering clear crystals. He looked up at Sam expectantly. “Which one?”
Sam shrugged. He couldn’t really see any difference between them, so he simply pointed to the one closest to him. “That one, please.”
A look of genuine surprise flashed across Jezek’s face. “Wait… You fell for that? You don’t even know, do you?” Sam stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Never mind. Come here, follow me.”
Again, the man walked through the shop. He ducked under a shelf and Sam, flustered, lost track of him. He glanced around.
“Over here, lordling!”
Sam hurried over to where the voice had come from. Jezek pointed at a cabinet filled with garnets. “Pick any from in there. Don’t worry, I’m not jerking your chain.”
“How much?” Sam asked the question pointing at a larger chunk of garnet, sitting in the middle of the shelf.
“Seven steel.”
Sam sucked in a breath. Seven steel was a lot. The higher denomination of common money. With that, he could buy at least two new books he’d been wanting for a while. Possibly even three. And he still had to buy her something. Sam hesitated. “Four.”
Jezek scowled. “Boy, if I sold every one of these for four steel, I’d be in a helluva lot of trouble. Minimum I can go is six steel.”
An image of her passed through Sam’s mind. “Five steel, three coppers?”
Doubt flickered across Jezek’s face. “Oh, for the love of the Nine…”
“It is, actually,” Sam quipped.
A loud laugh burst out of Jezek’s lips. “Heh. Clever. I like you, lad. I’ll give it to you for five, seeing as I’m in a kindly mood. But don’t you tell anyone! Jezek’s Gems and Amulets has a reputation to maintain.”
Sam smiled, handing over the coins. Jezek picked up the garnet and placed it in Sam’s hand. A soft tingle rushed up his arm. Jezek was watching Sam’s face, he realized. It was an expectant look. Sam pulled his hand away quickly. “Thank you.”
Jezek nodded and wavered before pulling out a small blue gem. “Here, take this. Consider it a gift.”
Sam frowned but accepted the stone without complaint.
Outside the shop again, the air was crisp, but much warmer than it had been that morning. Sam checked inside his money pouch. He had an even five steel left, and he knew exactly where he was going to spend it.
Making his way through the streets, Sam considered what had occurred in the shop. He put his hand in his pocket and placed it on the garnet. Again, that same strange tingling rippled up his arm, just beneath his skin. He decided to ask Dallus about it when he returned to the castle.
Curlicue’s Novelarium stood in the north corner of the market. In the window, stacks of books were on display. Sam smiled, remembering what she told him about those books. They were the ones with the fancy covers, but no real value; the ones only commoners would buy, filled with pictures and obvious meanings. The real gems lay further back in the shop, away from the destructive fingers of sunlight.
A tiny bell chimed overhead as Sam entered Curlicue’s. He took a deep breath and walked up to the counter, where she stood reading.
“Hey, Brynn,” Sam said with a smile.
Brynn held up a hand, motioning him to wait, but her lips formed into a smile. Her charcoal black hair fell like silk over her face as she read. Underneath, her ice blue eyes darted back and forth across the page, reading faster than anyone Sam had ever seen.
It wasn’t a minute before she’d finished the chapter. She closed the book with a snap and looked up at Sam, smiling. “You again,” she said cheekily. Sam laughed. Brynn walked out from behind the counter. “Come on, give me a hug. I haven’t seen you in, what is it, a fortnight?”
Sam smiled regretfully and hugged her. He replied as they parted. “Sorry. I’ve been studying.”
Brynn rolled her eyes, but a happy smile played on her lips. “Sometimes I wonder if you pay more attention to the books than you do to me?”
Guiltily, Sam put the book he was looking at back on the shelf. Then he paused. “How is… oh, what’s his name? Jim? Jack? Jake?”
She laughed. “James. And ask him yourself. We… broke up.”
And there it was, that damned flutter in his chest. “Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”
She punched him playfully. “No, you’re not,” she giggled. “It’s ok. I ended it.”
Sam couldn’t help himself; he smirked. “Ah, what a disappointment. In that case… do you want to get some lunch?”
Brynn smiled broadly. “I’d love to, but I-“
“Get back behind that counter, girl,” a loud voice roared from the entranceway. Brynn cursed, but scurried back behind the bench. The man in the doorway chuckled, sides heaving. “There we go. Break isn’t for another hour and you know it. Oh, good morning Sam. How’re the studies going?”
Sam feigned a smile. “Smashingly, Curlicue, thanks for asking.” Brynn laughed quietly.
Curlicue was fat. So fat, in fact, that as he waddled through the store, several stacks of books wobbled. With one final grunt, he pushed himself into the office. Before he shut the door, he turned back to Sam. “Buying anything?”
Sam shook his head.
“Go on then, out! Can’t have you distracting my workers. Out, I say, out!”
Brynn smiled apologetically. Then she darted under the counter and pulled out a thick book. “Here. This arrived for you.”
Sam accepted it gratefully. Then he passed over one of the books he’d wanted, leaned in and whispered, “See you in an hour?”
She nodded. Sam grinned and walked out of the store.
Later, after he’d made his prayers to the Nine, Sam sat in one of the Singer Squares of Cloverdale. The dream still troubled his thoughts, but he found that he could push it away for a time.
In his lap was the book that Brynn had given him. Sam ran his fingers over the cover curiously. There was no title. He opened the book. On the very first page was a note, seemingly written to him.
And tied to the page was a silver ring.
Sam’s heart stopped. His breathing grew heavy and labored. Slowly, as to take it all in, Sam read the note.
“If you want to see her again, do as we say.
Go to Riverfold. There, you will meet your contact. Do this within the next three days, or you’ll never lay eyes on Maia again.
We never forgive, and we never forget. The Dawn is for life, Samael, and you had best remember that.”