Silverkin

Thealos was pleased to see Jaerod, but he wanted to talk to him. He had been fighting his feelings for days. He was weary of wrestling against despair. “I failed, Jaerod. Down in the tunnels. I didn’t get the Silverkin.”


“I know.”

Silence.

“What does that mean though? Do we have another chance? Can we have another chance? If I had you with me, I would have been able to take it. But at the time…”

“I already know, Thealos. Allavin and Ticastasy told me everything.” Thealos nearly interrupted him, but the Sleepwalker gripped his shoulder. “Please. I’m tired, Thealos. They are both safe and waiting for you in the Shoreland.” He took another bite from the bread and chewed it slowly, sighing. Thealos kept quiet and ate as well.

Questions churned inside his mind. How could he ask them all? Images from the Foretelling flickered through his memory. The continent of Sol-don-Orai and the devastation caused by the Everoot. The blood shed by the armies fighting to control it. He remembered images of the Shae kingdom as it had once been. And the city in the clouds that had come to offer the talisman that would save them. Safehome—not a city of myth that would return for the Shae. A city that had, as Jaerod said in Castun, never left.

“Much better,” Jaerod said, finishing off the meal with a cool drink from a flask. He offered it to Thealos, who accepted and drank the cool leathery-tasting water. “I imagine you want to know what happened when we parted. I’ll answer you. But I have some questions first. You made it into the warding beneath Landmoor, didn’t you?”

“I was given a Foretelling. But it said I would die and the Silverkin would be given to a Sorian. I…I chose not to take it for that reason.”

“That was always a possibility. I had seen it in my Foretelling as well.”

“Yours?”

“I had one before coming to this valley to find you. It set my feet on the path leading to this point. But some of it does not make sense, even now. I was also supposed to find someone else—someone who would help defeat the Sorian.”

Thealos leaned forward. “I thought that wasn’t possible.”

“I told you in Castun that only a Sorian could defeat another Sorian. But in my Foretelling, I saw a young man with Shae blood, though not a Shae, whom I was supposed to meet in Castun. I would recognize him if I saw him. He wore a patch over one eye.”

“A patch? He’s blind?”

“Not blind. He can see, but he does not understand what he sees. I searched the Shadows Wood and the surrounding lands for him. When I scouted the Bandit army, I searched among the prisoners for him. I waited in Castun as long as I dared. He never came.” Jaerod shrugged. “But I must keep looking for him, Thealos. The Sorian must not control the Silverkin. If that happens, we fail.”

“Do you know his name?”

“Did your Foretelling give you any names?”

Thealos wiped his face, feeling exhaustion seep inside him. “I have so many questions, Jaerod. But I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes open. What do we do now?”

“That’s for you to decide, my friend. I’ve given you enough nudging. You know the dangers. You know the task. You must find a way to accomplish it.”

“But surely you will come with me. I…I can’t do it alone, Jaerod. I know that now.”

“I’m glad you do. Now you know how I feel. I’ve mentioned before that many who start out following our order do not make it in the end. The Sorian want us dead. The Shae do not trust us, nor do the other religions of the humans. For some, the price is just too costly. They cannot give what it takes to earn the right to wear this medallion.”

Jaerod hefted the medallion he wore and let the moonlight glimmer off its polished edge. It had always fascinated Thealos—the strange offset cross in an octagon. It was the symbol of Jaerod’s order—an order, he claimed, that had originated with the Shae.

Thealos let his fingers graze the medallion and felt magic whisper from its touch. It was a quiet magic, a subdued magic that he could barely sense.

Jaerod smiled. “There are other magics, Thealos, than the ones you’ve been taught. This symbol is an ancient magic. It goes beyond this world to the world the Shae came from. The magics of this planet are kindred to it. But it is older and deeper. It is the Oath magic. You can see how the words themselves have evolved…have been lost. In this world, you say Earth magic. Such a subtle difference, isn’t it? A small pronunciation twist and the meaning changes drastically. This medallion protects me from Firekin. But it comes at a great price.”

“What is that price, Jaerod? What must I do to earn it?”

“What do you think? What does its name suggest?”

Thealos nodded and his eyes drooped. He pinched his hand and muttered a little curse. “I have never felt so weary. I must make an oath then? You know that the Shae do not enter oaths lightly.”