Jay - Ahern's Burden

Arina walked through the thorny stalks. She leaned over and gently grabbed behind the leaves to expose the raspberries underneath.

Nuvi knelt a few dozen feet away in the garden. She tilted her head to the side and wiped the beads of perspiration from her forehead. The late afternoon temperatures began to strengthen, and they would retire underground as soon as their baskets were full. The steady ocean winds helped to cool them, but today seemed hotter than usual.

Nuvi held her hair back to keep it from sticking to her face while she placed the last tomatoes into her basket. She sighed at the completion of her work and wiped her hands free of dirt.

“These look ripe,” Nuvi said, setting her basket down near the raspberries.

“There’s more than yesterday,” Arina said. “How are the tomatoes?”

“Ripe. Have you looked over here?” she asked, walking behind her daughter.

“Not yet.”

Nuvi nodded and leaned over to grab a cluster of leaves and saw a spot on the horizon. She paused and moved her hand to have a clear view of the water. Squinting, she shaded her eyes and stood up. After a moment she stepped back.

“Arina get inside,” Nuvi said, reaching down to collect her basket.

Arina looked up with her hands full of raspberries, confused at her mother’s odd behavior.

Nuvi noticed her daughter’s hesitation. “Grab your basket and get inside.”

Arina stood and emptied the raspberries from her hand.

“Arina!” Nuvi yelled over her shoulder as she hurried towards the staircase.

Arina grabbed her bag and walked after her mother, still confused at her behavior. She looked around and saw the small spot on the water. Her pace quickened, and she joined her mother underground, trying to catch her breath.

“Is that a ship?” Arina asked.

Nuvi nodded. “Yes.”

“Maybe father is with them,” Arina suggested.

“Nothing would ease my concern more than to know your father is on that ship,” Nuvi said. “But until he calls out, we have to assume it is not your father.”

Nuvi paced, unsure of what to do.

Why would Barclay come by ship? she thought, and then she remembered her husband telling her that even he didn’t know how to find the isle by sea.

“It’s not your father,” she said. “Stay here. I need to have another look.”

She walked to the stairs, trying to control her anxiety, and slowly climbed. When she reached the top, she peeked over the edge and saw the ship. The large vessel had turned to expose the starboard profile. Nuvi could see men moving around the deck despite the distance.

“Is it still there?” Arina asked.

“Yes,” Nuvi said, “but they’ve stopped.”

“What kind of ship is it?”

“I don’t know. The ship is still far off.”

“Father wouldn’t stop,” Arina said.

Nuvi agreed. She knew if somehow Barclay was aboard, he would not hesitate. “We need to stay hidden until they leave.”

Arina climbed one step higher than her mother and had a look.

Nuvi wanted to say something to comfort her daughter and conceal her own uneasiness, but she knew Barclay was not out there.

“Has everyone arrived?”

“Yes,” Quinto responded.

“Good,” Seneca said, standing from his desk. He returned the book he was reading to the shelf and followed Quinto to the main hall. Atticus, Remis, and Philo sat quietly in their seats.

“As you know,” Seneca began, “we had in incident recently at the Condle Bridge.”

“Should we not wait for Demetri?” Atticus interrupted.

“No,” Seneca said.

“You intend to counsel without him?” he questioned.

“I extended an invitation,” Seneca explained. “He chose not to attend.”

Atticus sat up straight and moved his eyes to each of them. “He chose not to attend?”

“Yes,” Seneca responded. “May I continue?”

Atticus smiled at his response and sat back.

“The events at the Condle Bridge are significant,” Seneca said. “We know the boy is traveling with another powerful sorcerer. And it appears they can overcome our Obfuscators. My questions are two-fold. First, where are they heading, and second, who is this new companion?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Atticus asked sarcastically. “He’s building an army.”

“I came to the same conclusion,” Philo stated without hesitation.

Atticus stayed quiet and listened to Seneca and Quinto express their agreement. He eyed Remis while Seneca went on about moving their armies. His silence interested him.

“Do you have a response to your Imperious problem?” he asked Seneca, again interrupting his dialog.

Seneca stared at him from the corner of his eye. “We will discuss the Pyro Imperious later.”

“Whether or not the boy is gathering an army may not matter if he is in league with a powerful Imperious,” Atticus said. “Your first order should be controlling this new sorcerer.”

Quinto and Philo looked at Seneca. They didn’t have an answer to Atticus’ comment, and neither did Seneca.

“To me,” Atticus continued, “he appears to be able to do as he pleases.”

“We are not discussing the Imperious,” Seneca said with an odd calm. “Tonight, our plan is to rip the pillars from the boy. Once his strength is gone, we will have time to prepare for the Imperious.”

Curious, Atticus extended his right hand, giving Seneca the floor.

“The one constant we have yet to overcome is the strength the boy has around him. The Pyro Imperious is new and we will deal with him, but the boy’s guardian has traveled with him from the beginning. Our end goal to capture the boy has not changed, but if we were able to remove the guardian, I believe the boy would be an easier target.”

Atticus understood the logic, but he knew that with the Imperious also protecting the boy, removing his guardian would not be easy.

“Their advantage will soon be our greatest weapon,” Seneca finished.

“How so?” Philo asked.

“On past efforts we employed the wolves,” he explained. “Now we have a more powerful resource.”

The others at the table shared a look.

Seneca leaned back and looked over his right shoulder. “Bring him in.”

From behind Philo, a helper bowed and walked out through the open door into an adjacent corridor.

In silence the five waited until the helper escorted Atticus’ surviving wolf into the main hall.

Atticus looked at Seneca and back to the wolf.

“The wolves were trained to track specific people,” Seneca said when the wolf stood behind Demetri’s vacant chair. “He is no longer a wolf. He is much, much more.”

The helper returned to his position to Seneca’s right.

Atticus gazed upon the man. “What have you done with him?”

Seneca sneered approvingly at Atticus’ question. “I have discovered another means by which a man might track another.”

Atticus looked at his wolf. His given name was Gastori, and he regretted recruiting him years ago. Once a handsome man, his face was covered with indiscernible, non-human like features. Yellow eyes were surrounded by snowy pale skin. His nose had been smashed and widened and looked more like a pig’s snout. His breathing was labored, and his ears were enlarged and moved around in independent, random flutters. He wore a shiny silk green cloak that extenuated his bald head.

The man stood silent, looking past everyone.

Atticus looked at the man in disgust and stood. He gazed at Seneca before walking away.

“Atticus,” Seneca said, in an offended tone.

Atticus stopped a few steps away from the table. He did not turn around.

“Where are you going?”

Atticus didn’t answer. His silence brought a thick tension to the main hall. Philo and Quinto shared an uncomfortable yet curious look, then, looked to Seneca.

“Do you remember our mandate?” Atticus asked, without turning around.

Mind yourself Atticus, Remis thought. He knew where he was leading.

“We have several mandates,” Seneca began, “to which…”

“Our original mandate,” Atticus said in a calm voice. “I am not referring to the false ambitions in which you are currently engaged.”

Remis admired his boldness. He sat back and let the conversation unfold.

“If memory serves,” Seneca said, “you are also engaged.”

“Then you admit your ambitions are false,” Atticus quickly said, turning around and locking eyes with Seneca. “You can do as you wish and continue this ruse without me. After what I have witnessed tonight I no longer accept your course. This has gone too far,” he said, pointing at Gastori. “I chose to honor our original mandate.”

“You chose to honor our original mandate?” Seneca repeated, as though he had not heard Atticus correctly.

Remis stayed put but watched Seneca closely. To imply their original mandate was an open rebellion against Seneca and his defiance of Ahern and his teachings. None of the Idols had so much as spoken the words in over a century.

“Sit down, Atticus,” Seneca said in a calm but authoritative voice.

“No,” Atticus responded in an equally powerful tone. “I have sat at your table for the last time.”

“Do not rebel against me, Atticus,” Seneca warned. “I counsel you to retake your seat.”

“Stop threatening me, Seneca,” Atticus said, turning away. “You don’t frighten me.”

“What about me?”

Less than a foot away from Atticus stood Seneca’s mentor. His black hood covered most of his face.

Atticus stepped back, surprised by his sudden appearance.

The man raised his hand surrounded by a dark glow. Atticus began lifting off the ground. He counseled Atticus while he floated through the air. “Please take your seat Atticus. It is unwise to abandon your brothers.”

Seneca smirked while Atticus struggled through the air.

The other three watched in mild shock. They didn’t know the stranger.

“You each have your strengths,” said the man, “but your talents are needed this evening.”

Atticus struggled to gather his wit in an attempt to free himself. He brought his arms in tight and when he extended them. An outward burst broke the man’s hold on him. He fell a few feet and landed solidly in the center of the table.

The man took one step back and lifted his head. “You are strong.”

“Let me show you how strong I can be, demon.” Atticus clinched his fists and slammed his knuckles together. A wave of unbearable pain overcame the man.

The man fell to his knees but retained eye contact with Atticus. He grimaced but managed to bring his right leg in front of him.

Atticus saw his small advance and ground his knuckles together.

The man clinched his teeth and the two appeared to be at an impasse, neither willing to give.

Then, the stranger began to smile and stood without issue.

Atticus’ mind raced, trying to find anything in his century and a half of magic that could have escaped. He thought of his talents, past wars, and his weapons. His thoughts brought to this moment and why the man wanted him to stay. He caught Gastori in the corner of his eye standing without emotion or care.

He determined that he was still in control of his faithful wolf. I’m sorry, he thought, before he commanded him to attack.

Unconsciously, Gastori sprinted towards the man.

Atticus saw terror in his eyes until he raised his hand and Gastori went limp and ended up a heap on the floor.

Everyone held still.

The man walked towards Gastori and knelt. “Amazing,” he said. “Such loyalty.”

Standing, he eyed Atticus. “Your talent is without question,” he said, walking towards the table.

Atticus lowered his hands, knowing the earlier response was a fabrication.

“I need you to teach me your talent,” the man said.

“No,” Atticus replied. “I will never teach you anything.”

“My dear Atticus,” the man said, walking around the table, looking down. “You’ve already taught me a powerful lesson.”

Atticus looked confused, and for the first time, Remis saw fear in his eyes.

“Let me show you,” the man said. “You clinched your hands in this manner and held them apart.”

Atticus raised his hand. “No!”

“Too late,” the man said. “Shall we begin your lesson?”

The man mimicked Atticus’ motion and slammed his knuckles together.

The others watched Atticus’ body contort in unrealistic patterns. He kicked the fruit platter and showered Quinto with apples. But as quickly as the power grabbed him, Atticus went rigid. His entire frame stretched into a perfect line, hovering a few inches above the table.

Remis noticed Atticus’ breathing intensify and he finally let out a powerful scream.

The man had not released him, and the strain had become too much.

“Enough,” Remis said, raising his hand.

Seneca looked at Remis with sorrow and confusion.

The man ignored Remis’ petition and he appeared to strain harder, trying to exert all his energy on Atticus.

“Enough!” Remis commanded, slamming his hand on the table.

The demand broke the man’s concentration and Atticus fell to the table, out of breath. He looked at Remis and lowered his hands. He walked towards the table and stopped between Quinto and Seneca. Atticus tried to roll onto his side but fell back.

“My apologies for Atticus’ behavior,” Seneca said.

“No matter,” said the man. “Confrontation brings out my best.”

Atticus tried again to sit up but failed.

“Bring him,” he said to Seneca, walking away.

“Where are you taking him?” Remis asked.

“Not far,” the man responded. “His level of cooperation will determine his state of mind.” The man walked off in mid-sentence.

Remis watched him walk away and felt additional questions would be answered with the same vagueness.

Four men entered the room and pulled Atticus to the table’s edge. Two of them grabbed under his arms and carried him out of the room with his feet scrapping on the stone floor. The two others grabbed Gastori and removed him in a similar fashion.

Seneca eyed Remis who was rubbing his forehead with his fingertips. His head was down, and his eyes were closed. Seneca wanted to know why he spoke out but thought Atticus’ sedition was enough for one night. Remis was faithful and Seneca thought he knew where he placed his allegiance.

“You may be wondering of my new acquaintance,” Seneca stated.

Remis brought his head up.

“I have known him for many years,” Seneca continued. “He will help facilitate our goals.”

“Why have you never spoken of him before?” Philo asked.

“I thought he was dead,” Seneca bluntly responded.

“And his magic,” Remis asked, “did you teach him?”

“I did not teach him,” Seneca said, “and he has never told me how he learned.”

“You’ve allowed a stranger into our circle,” Quinto said. “What if he’s a spy?”

“A spy?” Seneca questioned.

“What if he’s working with Ahern?” Remis asked.

Philo and Quinto snapped their heads at the mention of Ahern.

Seneca smiled. “He does not follow Ahern.”

“How do you know?” Philo asked.

“You will have to trust me,” Seneca said, sitting down. “He is not following Ahern’s teachings.” He looked deep at the others. “As none of us do.”

Remis thought back to days forgotten at the mention of Ahern’s teachings, days when life seemed less stressful. Then he recalled Demetri’s recent actions and how they fell in line with what Ahern taught. And then his mind moved to Atticus’ call to follow the original mandate. A rebellion, he thought. That much is clear.

Seneca continued to discuss other matters, but Remis heard none of them. His mind fought a private battle, unable to settle on what he should do.