Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

“You go where you want,” he said with a stubborn lift of his chin. “I’m not leaving the city. It’s safe here. Besides, I’m a researcher, not a fighter.”

“You’re a quintessentialist,” Tiadaria pointed out. “Surely you can defend yourself if necessary.”

“I…” Wynn’s cheeks went bright red and his eyes dropped to the floor. He was embarrassed! When Tiadaria had still lived among the clan, she had seen that reaction in her brothers when they failed to best rival clansman in combat. It was deep shame. She had felt it standing the council room at Dragonfell, standing in front of the Captain and knowing that she had defied him, and in so doing, disappointed him.

“I lied when I told you that I’d never been out of Ethergate,” He blurted, almost in a panic. “I wasn’t born or raised here. I was exiled here, in a fashion.” The pain in his voice eschewed any desire she had to scold him for his falsehood.

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

Wynn turned his head from her and for a moment Tia was convinced that he would just remain that way, silent and inscrutable. When he spoke, his voice wavered and she realized that his reluctance stemmed from trying to get himself under control.

“I told you that both my parents were quintessentialists. We lived in Blackbeach and they were both so convinced that I would be like them that when I reached my sixteenth name day and hadn’t shown any connection whatsoever with the Quintessential Sphere, I think they were devastated. Most children know from an early age. They’ll be able to move something here, conjure something there. Little, harmless things that tip them off to their connection. I never had that. Making the best of things, my parents taught me to be a world-class archivist and researcher. I guess they figured that if I wasn’t going to be like them, they could at least keep me close.”

Tia shifted on the desk and Wynn finally looked at her, his face still crimson and his eyes suspiciously wet. She inclined her head, urging him to continue. He took a deep breath.

“The other kids picked on me something fierce. It got to be so bad that I’d spend my days in the library, just to avoid anyone else. I got to know some of the most powerful Masters of our age. Masters Jotun and Tanglar, Master Faxon- so many brilliant minds that I got to study while I was escaping the inevitable cruelties of adolescence.

“They caught me leaving the library one night. I had taken an armful of books to do some transcribing and I had promised Master Jotun that I’d be careful with them. They chased me down the long alley behind the library, up against the city wall.”

Wynn’s eyes lost focus and Tia knew he was back at the end of the alley. She was torn between wanting to stop him, to spare him the pain, and knowing that if he had come this far, he needed to let it out. She wondered who else, if anyone, had heard his story. Had anyone bothered to listen? Or had they dismissed him as an eccentric and left him alone?

“They knocked the books out of my arm and I was so scared. I promised Master Jotun I’d take care of them. They were my responsibility, and these kids, my peers, were kicking them around the alley, laughing and whooping, having a great time. There were four of them. I’ll remember their names of the rest of my life.

“Thomas was the biggest and the leader. The others were Harlon, Azir, and a little crippled kid named Meppet. The crippled kid was more accepted than I was. I know it shouldn’t matter now, or even then, but it hurt, you know?

“I remember it so clearly. Thomas punched me in the stomach and all the wind went out of me. I fell back against the wall and he hit me a second time. I’d never been in so much pain. He drew his hand back to hit me a third time and I threw my hands up to try and protect myself.”

He swallowed convulsively and looked away. Tiadaria put her fingers under his chin and determinedly ignoring the link-shock, turned his face to hers. Tears were slipping from the corners of his eyes.

“Wynn,” she said gently. “What happened?”

“I incinerated them,” he snapped at her. “I don’t remember calling on the sphere, I don’t remember saying any words, or making any gestures, or any part of any ritual, rite, or spell. All the same, I incinerated them. They screamed and people came running. They tried to help, but it was pointless. They were gone in moments.

“It was an accident,” Wynn continued, his voice steadying. “Everyone said so. Rationally, I know that’s true. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I didn’t want it to happen. But there was a part of me, a small part, that was glad that it did. Everyone left me alone after that. It was difficult for Mother and Father. They started fighting a lot. Then one evening Master Faxon came by the house and asked me to be his apprentice.

“I know he moved me here to get me out of Blackbeach. It was easier for everyone that way, and I got to come here and do what I’m good at. Somewhere safe, where there won’t be any more accidents.”

“Wynn,” Tia said slowly. “You can’t live your life being afraid of what might happen. Surely you’ve had training?”

He nodded. “I was trained and given the quintessential Trials just like any other mage. Master Faxon said that I was one of the biggest raw talents he’d ever seen.”

This last statement he added without hint of ego or pride. It was just another fact, another piece of information to be categorized and relayed. Tiadaria shook her head. A mage that Faxon said was one of the most powerful he’d seen and the silly boy wouldn’t even go outside the city.

“If I need your help, I need to know I can count on you, Wynn. Especially if Faxon doesn’t arrive before we find something we can act on. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“I can’t,” he said with mournful eyes. “Inside the city it’s safe, I’m safe. I can help you from here, but that’s as much as I can offer.”

He got to his feet, stretching in much the same way Tiadaria had when she rose. “It's late, Lady Tiadaria…or at least, I suspect it’s late. Let’s both get some sleep?”

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped past her, leaving her to watch him ascend the stairs to the upper reliquary. She was irritated with him, both for his stubborn insistence on not leaving Ethergate, and because he had forgotten to rub her shoulders.

By the time Zarfensis had left the Warrens, his entourage had grown from five to fifteen. Though Xenir was reluctant to remain behind, he knew that these were critical times for solidifying their vision for the Chosen. If they were going to rule and return the Xarundi to power, then they had to make sacrifices. The Warleader contented himself with hand-picking the warriors who would accompany his oldest friend on their mission. This had, naturally, resulted in a marked increase in force strength.

Now that they stood outside the city, Zarfensis was privately happy to have the extra bodies. The walls, bathed in flickering shadows cast by the eldritch fire that danced in the large braziers, seemed almost insurmountably high. The portcullis was closed for the night, a foreboding thing of steel rods as thick as a man’s thigh. There was a rustle in the bushes nearby and the last of the scouts he had sent out loped into view.

“Your Holiness, the city is secure. Every entrance is well fortified and guarded. We were unable to find a weakness.”

Zarfensis dismissed the report with a nod and turned his attention back to the city. He was unfamiliar with the history of the Hallowed Vale. It probably would have served him well to consult the archives before setting out on this mission, but time, he felt, was of the essence. If the girl were here, and indeed had knowledge of the relic, then it would do well for them to end her here and now before she could cause any more trouble. How many Xarundi relics were lost when the vermin had driven them from this place?