The Master’s Decree
Aryn, Witch of Anacaris
Screaming pierces my eardrums. The door slams, and suddenly, we’re all capable of calling light to the tips of our fingers. In the crackling glow, panic flares in Tyrak’s eyes as he turns and nearly trips over me to run to the staircase. Ember grips my hand, and we bolt, Jelric to my side.
We stampede as if Ortha’s body could fly, hands twisted like talons, face emblazoned with terror, and catch us. I tug the stone walls, groping for purchase, desperate to climb faster. Tears cloud my vision.
But when the four of us reach the main hall, it’s like nothing’s changed. Dinner has finished, and the other apprentices pass by on their way to the observation tower for Astronomy class. I exchange worried glances with Ember. Jelric reaches out as if to offer comfort but stops mid-motion.
Tyrak waves at the group, pleading to join them.
I sob quietly, hoping it goes unnoticed.
Jelric glares at him, then looks between me and Ember. “Take a few minutes,” he whispers, “but hurry. We can’t appear suspicious.”
“We have to do something,” Ember demands.
He puts a finger to his lips. “First, we should figure out what’s going on. All we can do without more facts is tell Master Kaelthar or quit and go home. If he already knows….” He slashes at his throat. “We need a better option.”
They nod, chewing their bottom lip, compassionate rage barely contained. Tyrak inches away, already blending with the others. Jelric joins them. Ember squeezes my shoulder, and then we, too, are off, leaving her behind.
***
Kaelthar swings the telescope to focus on the nearest moon. When he’s satisfied he has the object centered in his mirror’s scope, he motions to form a line so we can see the celestial at magnified range.
“As we watch throughout the night,” he intones, “the objects we view will move across the sky. Great magic tethers them to our world, Thellas and Palthor, the sun, the stars, each inhabiting its own sphere above us.”
“No-” After everything today, I’ve barely been listening, and as soon as I do, my mouth opens without my permission.
“Excuse me, Aryn?” Kaelthar’s stare trains on me. I sense the building danger, but it’s too late to keep quiet.
I scuff my sandals on the tile floor, but I know what I’m saying. “They’re not all tethered to us. The moons are, but we’re bound to the sun. And the stars only appear to move because we are spinning.”
“What insolence!” he bellows. In the darkness, his aura crackles with energy he wishes he could direct at me.
“But if you focus the telescope on Orendion, you’ll find objects circling it as well.” I look up, scanning for the planet. The bright point lies between the Archer and Ram constellations; I trace its course from the horizon with my finger. The others’ faces are blank, and I realize I’m the single student here who can name the stellar objects.
Kaelthar’s white hair rises in response to the growing rage storm around him until it stands on end. Not looking at the sky, he declares, “That’s Brisba.”
“But-”
Ember steps on my foot.
“The season is wrong for Orendion.” The angry glower does not leave. “We shall return our attention to our near moon of Thellas, where it was before the distraction.”
Murmurs of “Yes, Master Kaelthar” resound. Tyrak chimes in among the first. Ember resists, but they, too, mutter along under the Sorcerer’s glare.
The rest of the night passes in silence. Ember and I can’t inch closer to Jelric and Tyrak without drawing suspicion. Not that we’d be able to discuss the problem; even whispered code would be overheard in this echo chamber where digestion grumbles out loud.
Just as the last apprentice finishes, Kaelthar speaks a final time. “Aryn, report to my chambers before first class tomorrow. I’ll leave you tonight to consider your fate.” He waves in dismissal.
I try to control my body, but shiver despite the warm air. Ortha’s lifeless form floats in my vision. Ember takes my wrist as we turn and flow from the observatory with the group.
Jelric and Tyrak catch up to us as we transverse the passages between the buildings. At the bathhouse, Ember pulls me aside. The boys follow. We duck inside the wooden stalls to wait for the others to pass. After we’re sure we’re alone, we tiptoe out and convene under the moonlight.
Ember stares balefully at me. Their face is streaked with tears. “You’re going to be next.”
I wrap them up in a tight hug and feel their heart racing through the embrace. I want to tell them everything’s going to be alright, but Kaelthar’s voice echoes in my ears.
Tyrak smirks. “Next to be sent home.”
“He’s not sending people away!” I feel Ember jerk, fear stoking their anger. “You saw what he did to Ortha!”
Jelric glances around for errant observers. “Do you two really believe Kaelthar was involved in her death?”
Immediately, Tyrak jumps to defend his idol. “He would never! What use are dead students to a Sorcerer like Kaelthar?”
I snap up from Ember’s shoulder. “Holy goodness!”
“The garden!” they finish.
Jelric cocks his head with genuine concern in his icy blue eyes while Tyrak scoffs.
“This morning… we found…” I stutter. “Come; I’ll show you.” I grab Jelric’s hand and lead them to the patch of rosemary we tended during History. Among the plant roots in the back row, the bone glitters in the moonlight. I push the stalks aside, afraid to touch it now that I know its nature.
Tyrak clicks his tongue at my cowardice. He reaches down and picks it up, but his sharp words stick. “It can’t be-” he chokes out.
Jelric’s stare bores into the smooth, ivory material. “It is-”
“A human femur,” Ember finishes.
Tyrak flings it to the ground as though it’s just bitten him. Making as little contact as possible, Jelric nudges it out of sight behind the bush.
“But what is it doing out here?” Jelric asks.
“Whatever it is, the Master can’t have anything to do with it.” Tyrak begins with his usual condescension, but doubt creeps in before he finishes his statement. “Can he?”
A chill grips the base of my spine, and my skin sprouts goosebumps. Nothing happens in these gardens that Kaelthar doesn’t know about. Plant magic is quintessential to any practitioner’s power.
Thunder cracks sharply, splitting the sky that was clear moments ago. Newly formed clouds crack open and drop sheets of rain.
“You can’t go to his chambers by yourself,” Ember pleads against the rising wind. “Kaelthar is executing apprentices, and he hates you more than anyone.”
Jelric grips mine and Ember’s wrists. “None of us should be anywhere alone.” The force surprises me.
I motion to Jelric and Tyrak. “You two stay in your room. Lock the door. Survive the night and I’ll tell you what happens tomorrow.” I grab Ember’s elbow. “You should come to my dorm with me. If Selsa complains, we’ll throw her out to the storm.” I gesture to the gathering gloom.
They nod, and we dart off toward the dormitories, staying as close together as possible. As we race over the lawn, lightning strikes and draws my attention up the height of the towers. For a moment, I could swear that I catch a glimpse of a dark figure outlined in the window in Kaelthar’s study. I grip Ember’s hand instinctively as the boys veer off for their own quarters.
***
The pale light of morning twinkling in the dust of the windowsill wakes me. Tucked in beside me, Ember rolls over, bringing their face next to mine. Their hazel eyes shift open and lock me into their deep gaze. A smile dances across their features until I see the realization dawn about why we are sharing a bed. They reach out and stroke my unbound auburn hair. “Don’t go,” they plead again.
I rub their bicep, thankful for their strength. “You’ll be right outside, remember?”
They bite their bottom lip. “It might not be close enough.”
Selsa snores and mutters in her sleep. We sigh, climb out of the quilts, and make quick work of finding our clothes in the half-light.
We’re early to breakfast and fresh, hot breads greet us, but no eggs or meats are ready yet. Soon, the hour arrives for me to report to Kaelthar.
Skulking through the stone halls, we cross the manor to his chambers. Ember stations themselves out of sight beside a tapestry hanging to the door’s left, and I knock once.
“Enter,” Kaelthar’s voice booms.
Steeling my nerves, I tiptoe inside. Kaelthar leans with one arm against the fireplace, an iron poker behind his back. Shelves packed with books and scrolls flank the heavy mantle. I stop on the far side of the intricate rug. Bottles of rare ingredients, glittering potions, and bundles of drying herbs populate every shelf on the opposite wall.
He prods the bottom log in the fire. “Aryn, you will stop questioning my instruction in front of the class. If I choose to teach about a universe centered around our planet, that is my prerogative.” His frostbitten gaze turns on me. “Do you think I am unaware of the moons of Orendion?”
Shock radiates from my gut as if he’d punched me. It never occurred to me he knew. “But surely you agree it proves-”
“That is immaterial.” He swipes the poker across his body, smashing a skull-sized geode sitting atop the mantle, and I jerk my fist to my mouth to prevent a yelp. That rock jerks something in me. “I shall educate the apprentices as I see fit. You won’t interfere. Do you understand?”
I manage to nod, holding my tears.
“Good.” He slams the instrument into its holder and storms to his desk, framed by the window in the center of the study. “Is anything else unclear?”
I gather whatever resolve I have and draw my courage to me. I feel Ember in the hallway, giving me strength. “What happened to Ortha?”
“She failed to impress me.” No emotion escapes him. “You haven’t.”
His words shiver through me. The smooth outer hull of the geode lies facing up at my feet. One of my mother’s rhymes echoes in my mind. “Death feeds life from its decay, brutal forces on display. Herbs grow tall, potent, and true when fed flesh and fresh sinew.”
Kaelthar peaks his fingers and shows his vicious teeth. “A quaint understanding of the principle.”
Justification springs to my lips. “During the spring till, butchers would visit our home, bringing waste and bones from stags and farm animals to work into the loam.” I shake my head so fast my braid whips my shoulders. “But spells don’t call for human tissues!”
This time, he doesn’t hold his temper. He sends the sparks his brewing anger calls out of the air to attack me. “So naive. These talented children represent immense caches of resources. Broken down, many of them are more valuable as ingredients-blood, tissues, pounds of fat-than anything they might amount to as Witches. You haven’t considered the possibilities. What would happen to your mother’s garden if she used enhanced meat as fertilizer instead of base animals?”
I gasp. “We would never disgrace our magic like that!”
A sick grimace stretches his cheeks to ghastly proportions. He zaps me again, and I seize up in pain. “Impudent fool! The only thing that separates the interesting from the remarkable is the steps they’re willing to take.”
“But-”
“And now that you understand, you’ll lend your will to my own. Unlike your companions, you have the potential to become something great. But I also quiver with anticipation, thinking of the charge your blood would bring to a spell. Do not cross me.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts off my windpipe.
“Again, the only acceptable answer is Yes, Master.”
Editor: Lucy Cafiero
