CLEO – Ashenshore

  In the end, the process involving Dalvin looking through Cleo’s mind for disturbances and manipulations was relatively unintrusive. There were none of the imagined hot needles of pain, or nausea, for which she was grateful.

  The mage had them brought—under guard—to a room down the corridor from the commander’s office. A room with a heavy oak door and no windows, and two legionnaires stationed outside along with Aedan’s bodyguards. Though Cleo had no doubt that Dalvin—the most powerful mage she’d seen so far—would be able to handle the both of them had they indeed been mind controlled, or were Dark Ones themselves and attempted to escape or kill him.

  Siunattu, Cleo reminded herself.

  “It’s actually quite simple,” Dalvin explained to Cleo and Aedan as they settled on rough wooden stools scattered about the almost empty room.

  Cleo did her best to ignore the dark stains that spattered the walls and floor. Surely that isn’t blood…

  “Since most of your mind will be untainted, we can make a general assessment of your psyche and mana signature, and map what’s normal.”

  “Like drawing a schematic?” she said.

  “Indeed, Cleo. That’s astute of you. A unique imprint of what makes you, you. In general terms only, though. If part of you has been tainted, then it should be small enough not to make a significant difference.”

  “So, you sort of map a baseline of our brain?”

  “That’s… yes, in a way. Your essence though, your soul if you will. We can’t see your cards and their abilities, but we do get an overall idea of the strength of your mind and mana core.”

  “Core?” Cleo blurted. “You mean my mana pool, the reservoir?”

  “Most people don’t think of it in such liquid terms. And it’s not taught that way to children, either. I’d very much like to know where you were educated?”

  Keep wondering. I need to nip this topic in the bud, somehow. “Somewhere far away. I don’t know whether I’ll ever make it back, to be honest.”

  “I asked her before, but didn’t get a straight answer either,” Aedan said.

  Cleo huffed in irritation, crossing her arms. “It’s not a secret. It’s just that I don’t want to talk about it. My memories of growing up aren’t something I want to dwell on.” There, that should hopefully stop them asking questions, if they have a conscience, that is.

  But after she’d spoken, Cleo realized there was more than a grain of truth to her words. Her family had been–still were—fairly poor and barely scraping by. Her brother and her had to look after themselves in many ways, while their parents worked—household chores, doing some shopping for bread and milk and other basics, making their own school lunches and other meals, organizing themselves, and catching the bus to and from school. Her childhood meant that she’d developed an independent streak a mile wide, and could look after herself. It’s not that her parents didn’t care about their children, they did, it was just that they never had much time to spare for them.

  Even when Cleo was in hospital, they hadn’t visited as often as she would have liked.

  Her father sometimes gave good advice, but it was sporadic. They’d done their best, and Cleo thought that she was reasonably well adjusted. In a moment of insight, she realized it wasn’t because of her parents; instead, it was despite them and her upbringing.

  She still missed them though, and just thinking of her family brought an ache to her chest and tears formed in her eyes. She brushed the wetness away, wiping her eyes on her sleeve.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, chastising herself for her weakness. If she was to grow and become powerful, and develop into the legend she wanted to be and save the world, then she needed to be harder than steel. There was no room for softness.

  “Well, I won’t push you, Cleo,” Dalvin said. “I can see we’ve upset you, and you needn’t apologize for having feelings. The Watcher knows that most people could do with a healthy dose of empathy. But times are hard, and sometimes empathy is in short supply.”

  “The Watcher?”

  “The Watcher over all of us,” Aedan replied. “Surely, you’ve heard of them, even where you’re from? The Watcher sees all and knows all, and judges accordingly. The Watcher’s adherents are the main religion of the Empire.”

  “Not officially,” Dalvin added with a wry smile. “But we’re working on it.”

  Ah, a local deity of some repute. More than some, if this was the Empire’s main religion.

  “I’m afraid I’m ignorant.”

  “Who do you worship, then?”

  Would they be upset if I said I wasn’t religious, since I don’t know anything about their gods? And I’d imagine that falsely claiming to worship one would be frowned upon if I were ever found out. And the god themselves might be annoyed… but when in Rome…

  Not Mau, the little shi— “I have leanings toward Saskia Snow-owl.”

  What had the goddess—which is how Cleo thought of her now—had said about herself? Oh, yes… “Protector of the Shattered Lands, and Harbinger of Dawn.”

  “Ah!” Dalvin exclaimed.

  Aedan gave a slight frown and gazed at her with renewed interest. “That might explain why you can speak High Imperial. You must be from one of the noble families and trying to hide it!”

  Dalvin raised his eyebrows. “You speak High Imperial?”

  Cleo shrugged. “I speak a few languages. I pick them up easily. It’s a talent I have.”

  “Talent or card?” Dalvin said.

  “Card, then, if you must know,” Cleo lied. It was better to have them think she had a language card. ‘Hey, a demi-god in the form of a cat gave me the ability to understand languages’ would raise more than just eyebrows.

  Aedan’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. He still thought she was just like him and trying to hide it in the face of the evidence. Well, let him think what he wanted. A week or so and she’d be gone from here, and she’d probably never see him again.

  “Speaking of cards…” Dalvin said. “As much as I’d like to continue our interesting conversation, I’m afraid time is of the essence. I need to clear you, and everyone else in the caravan. And then there’s a hundred other tasks to do, it’s never ending.”

  He drew a flat leather folder from a pocket, of a similar size to a diary or notebook. Cleo tilted her head… it looked slightly too large to have come from the pocket… a spacial storage? And Dalvin had disguised the ability by pretending to pull the folder from his pocket.

  That’s already on my list, I think: get a storage item. I really should write my list down.

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  The mage opened the folder to reveal a flat steel protection plate inside the front cover—and a thin stack of cards. Cleo peered at the cards, trying to determine their tier and function, as Dalvin flipped through them until he found the one he wanted.

  “That’s a bit rude,” he said when he saw Cleo’s unabashed interest.

  “Cards are fascinating, I can’t help it. I’ve only recently come into mine, and there’s so much I don’t know. Could you—”

  “Another time, perhaps,” Dalvin said kindly. And then he winced in pain as motes of golden light swirled from his chest and coalesced into a card.

  Before she could get a good look at it, Dalvin quickly slipped the card into the folder and closed it, then the other card dissolved into motes and was quickly absorbed.

  “I’d rather not have to do that too often.” He grimaced in distaste.

  “I’ve never… does it hurt?”

  “It does, but it’s manageable. And a hazard of my position, I’m afraid. Sometimes I have to swap cards on the fly, depending on the situation I’m in. Now, I’d better clear you two quickly and get onto the rest.”

  So, he’d exchanged one of his usual cards for a mind-reading card. Or, as he’d said earlier, a card that would analyze their overall mind and then find any anomalies. Did that even make sense? Couldn’t any tampering be disguised? Dalvin seemed to think whatever he was doing was sufficient, but Cleo wasn’t so sure. Still, the mage was the expert and had years of training and knowledge under his belt that she didn’t.

  Yet.

  Add to to-do list: Get a card folder like Dalvin’s for spares. But why wouldn’t he keep them in his spacial storage? Surely that would be safer and easier?

  “Cleo!”

  “Sorry! I was just wondering about something. I’m ready, do your worst.”

  Without warning, Cleo felt something surging through and around her. She swayed slightly, as if she were jostled by a mana tide’s ebb and flow. She tried to focus on the sensation, but her vision spun with dizziness, and she gripped the sides of her stool to stop from falling. A hand steadied her. She didn’t know whose, and someone spoke, but the words were muffled and indistinct. Faint pin-pricks prickled her skin, and then traveled up and into her head where they stung slightly.

  And then the sensation left as abruptly as it had come upon her.

  Cleo closed her eyes and breathed deeply until the world around her stopped spinning. The muffled voices slowly became recognizable as Aedan and Dalvin’s.

  “So there’s nothing?”

  That was Aedan.

  “According to my scan, she’s untainted. But there are some remarkable…”

  “What? What’s remarkable?”

  “I shouldn’t—”

  “Dalvin,” Cleo said sharply. “It’s rude to pry and then give private information to other people.”

  “I wasn’t going to, no matter how much Aedan here badgered me.”

  “Good.” Cleo opened her eyes to find both men staring at her, which she found uncomfortable. She averted her eyes and stared at the floor. “I’m clear then. Now it’s Aedan’s turn.”

  Dalvin nodded and then turned to Aedan. The noble-in-disguise was gripping his stool even harder than Cleo, his hands pale with the strain.

  “This will only hurt for a few moments,” Dalvin said.

  Hurt?

  “I’ve been through this before,” Aedan snapped in irritation. “Just get it over with!”

  His head snapped back, and he whimpered as Cleo felt an indefinable something stir the air in the room. Mana? Aedan’s body went rigid, and his breath came in short gasps.

  “He’s clear,” Dalvin said after a long moment.

  Aedan moaned and practically collapsed, dropping his head into his hands. His skin sheened with sweat, and he trembled.

  “That was worse than last time,” he croaked.

  Cleo couldn’t help but frown in puzzlement. Her ‘scan’ or whatever it was had been mildly irritating, nothing more. But it seemed that Aedan’s was more than uncomfortable; it had looked painful.

  She turned her head to ask Dalvin a question, only to find the mage already watching her.

  “Why did it hurt Aedan more than it did me?” Cleo said.

  “I was surprised that you didn’t react more,” Dalvin replied. “I expected you to, ah… react a lot more strongly to the procedure. In my experience, it just means that you can handle pain better than he can.”

  Cleo looked at Aedan, groaning and sweating, and couldn’t help herself. “Aww… did the scan hurt poor little Aedan?”

  “That’s not funny,” he said. “It hurt.”

  It wasn’t surprising to Cleo that she could tolerate pain better than a normal person. After all, she’d lived with it almost constantly since the first symptoms of her lupus had manifested. And compared to her first experience traveling through a portal, the scan had been a piece of cake.

  Was she really that much more pain-tolerant than Aedan, though? It was difficult to deny the evidence when it was right in front of her. Maybe after years of pain she’d built up a significant tolerance.

  Dalvin stood from his stool, and tapped on the door. It was opened by one of Aedan’s bodyguards, who brushed past Dalvin as she rushed to his side.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” Aedan said as he stretched his neck and gingerly staggered to his feet.

  “You’re both cleared, but you have your orders from the commander. We need you here at dawn tomorrow. Pack what you think you need, buy whatever you need, say your goodbyes, and be here at sunrise.”

  And with that, Dalvin strode out of the room without a backward glance.

  Cleo stood and followed him.

  “Hey!” Aedan said. “I want to talk to you!”

  Harder than steel, Cleo.

  “Not happening,” she said over her shoulder as Aedan stumbled trying to walk. “We can talk tomorrow, and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time over the next few days.”

  While we’re on this bullshit side-quest or whatever it is.

  She left Aedan standing there, leaning on his bodyguard, and hurried past the other bodyguard. The two legionnaires had followed Dalvin.

  She needed to leave, to gather her thoughts and decide what to do.

  Dalvin had seen something in her that had piqued his curiosity. That much she’d figured out when he’d said he’d ‘seen something remarkable’.

  And that wasn’t good news.

  The mage may have given her the all clear for mind-control, but the process had also drawn his attention to her. He hadn’t said anything to Aedan, but Cleo was certain that he would to Commander Magnus. She had no idea what about her he’d perceived, but there was probably little chance that he would totally forget about it, no matter how busy he was.

  Which meant she needed to get this mission over with, and then get as far away from here as possible before anyone decided that she was too interesting to be left alone.

  * * *

  “Cleo has been in the presence of a divinity recently.”

  “Are you sure?” Commander Magnus said.

  “I am. When I scanned her, it was plain to see. There’s a residual divine power lingering in her flesh and in her mind. It was faint. Very faint. But it was there.”

  “Not the Watcher, I assume?”

  “No.”

  Magnus put his head in his hands. “Frak! How recently?”

  “Weeks, maybe. I think it would take a month or so for the power to dissipate on its own. But there haven’t been many studies documented, so—”

  “Dalvin… a Dark One, a Siunattu, tried to kill her. She’s obviously come to their attention, and she’s a magnet for trouble. I want her gone. We can’t have a deity’s pawn messing around here and causing trouble!”

  “You’re right, and wrong, I’m afraid. Yes, she’s trouble, but if the Siunattu are already after her, then—”

  “Then she’s not going to last long.”

  “Not at her level of ability. But why would the Corrupted Scourge be so concerned about a lowly aura mage?”

  “I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I have enough to worry about. Draft a missive to the Imperial Command. Detail Cleo and what we know of her, which isn’t much, it seems. They’ll either send someone to investigate her or they won’t. Whatever happens, she’ll be on their plate and not ours. And we need to keep her under surveillance. She didn’t seem like she was dangerous, though. I thought she was relatively harmless.”

  “Either she is, or it’s an act. Whatever the case, you know the procedure. I had a thought, though. Aedan was interested in her, which might work to our benefit.”

  “Nudge him closer, maybe, and have him keep an eye on the girl?”

  “Perhaps. But then it remains to be decided whether to tell him the truth or not.”

  “The truth that she’ll be nothing but trouble?”

  * * *

  Zane woke, feeling in his tired bones and cloudy thoughts, far older than he had when he’d fallen asleep. His transformed body ached, as did his teeth, as did what felt like every single muscle, including ones he hadn’t known existed before.

  Evading the mage’s detection spells hadn’t been easy, and he’d drained his mana dry staying hidden, before deciding that discretion was the better part of valor and hightailing it across the water to the island of the Gravelands dungeon.

  While the surrounding ravens cawed and pecked and jostled each other, he ignored them, and in turn the ravens ignored him, not knowing what to make of the bird with the strange head, but knowing that he wasn’t quite one of them.

  He was other.

  Zane glared more than gazed out across the lake to the shores and docks of Ashenshore.

  Part of him was still enraged that the young woman, Cleo, had survived; while another part of him was insulted.

  It was too late, he realized.

  His mission, vague as it was, had come to an end.

  Cleo was now beyond his grasp, under the protection of the Imperial Legion and a mage far more powerful than he was. And he still wasn’t even sure whether she was worth the trouble of killing.

  His mood blackened.

  “Shut up!” he shouted at the cawing ravens around him, and a few took flight in alarm while others renewed their irritating chorus.

  His punishment would be severe, but he wasn’t going to risk going after her, not now.

  Twenty years of toil, and he wasn’t going to waste it dying for an unknown girl of dubious value.

  He needed to go back and face his master.

  Back to the impenetrable black of Jiu’Aunak.

  Where Maizdahn the Black God and the Nine corrupted sorcerers resided.

  For your sins, the dead-eyed ravens around him seemed to whisper.

  For your damnation.