Engin

  Engin, Krip and Perry had come barreling into their sleeping quarters, only to find an empty room.

  “Where is everyone!” Engin shouted.

  The bed sheets were scattered, pillows on the floor, and some sandals left behind at the bedside. A whistling breeze of cold air snaked its way around their feet and out into the hallway. Shattered glass riddled the floor beneath the far window, the curtains ripped off their holders and draped sideways across the floor.

  “Something’s got in!” Perry panicked.

  Engin stepped back out of the room, looking around at the expansive hallway. His hand was dripping warm blood, the cut from Amadeus’ dagger still open and fresh.

  He still had it. The dagger.

  He’d been holding onto it so tight the feeling had become almost numb.

  It shuddered in his hands when he loosened his grip.

  It felt forbidden. To hold a weapon of power in his hands. One with a rune. Something he wasn’t allowed to wield... at least, not until his prima lobe had awakened.

  Hot smoke came rolling around the far darkness of the halls, followed by a heavy boom. The foyer was ablaze. Engin could not push away the darkest of thoughts.

  Lady Elenora... please be okay...

  Her words came back to him...

  “The girls...” Engin spoke beneath his breath, shoving the dagger into his trouser pocket and sprinting further down the corridor.

  The door to the girl’s quarters was barely ajar, and there were faint noises emanating from its light.

  Voices of fear. Desperation. A call for help.

  Engin tackled through the doorway, only to find himself bumping into the back of a hard bodied man.

  The man pivoted, revealing a younger face, soft and innocent. He had short-cut brown hair, well parted like a noble, and his shoulders were spread like mountains, larger than life.

  A scabbard, made of darkened leather, rested against his back, its strap snug across his chest. The sword’s hilt peeked just above his right shoulder, adorning an engram rune, its pommel gleaming faintly in the dim light.

  The man smiled when he looked down at Engin, reaching his hand over to grab him by the clavicle.

  “NO!” Engin yelled, pushing into the man as if he had the power to move him.

  He did not.

  The other orphans were huddled at the far side of the room, like a cowering herd of sheep.

  There was Neina, holding the sobbing trio of Isa, Cisco and Jona close to her. And there was Boog, covering up a very bloody nose.

  “Engin!” Merabella called out to him, fear dripping down her face, her hair in front of her eyes.

  “Run you cowards!” Engin belted at the top of his lungs, warm faced, but still resilient.

  Some of the orphans scrambled to their feet, Little Tommy being the bravest.

  Engin did not know why he was angry. Seeing them all like that... it made his blood boil, and he wanted to take it all out on the man in front of him.

  The man’s hands siphoned a maroon energy, glowing like large balls of light. Engin felt his feet lift off the ground, his neck tightening between the grasp of one large fist.

  He was level with the man’s face now. There was a youth in there, a familiar expression of frustration and uncertainty.

  “Leave us alone!” Engin struggled, dangling his legs, trying to kick into the man’s chest.

  “Calm yourself you little brat.” The man spat at him.

  Engin spat back in the man’s face. “NO!”

  “Oy!” The man scowled. “I could tear you apart right here, stupid boy.”

  Engin felt the force of the man’s power, his back rising farther and farther into the air as the man lifted him with only one hand and pushed him against a wall of the room.

  Let me go - you cherub-faced silva-guss!

  Was what he wanted to say...

  But the words wouldn’t come out. He’d been choked so many times in one day.

  It was hard to breathe.

  Krip and Perry had finally caught up.

  They watched him from the doorway.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  All of them did.

  With shock and dread smeared across their faces.

  He couldn’t give up here. Not now.

  Engin reached down into his trousers, feeling for the edge of the dagger. He raised the obsidian blade, coming down with it in one fast motion.

  But something halted his strike. As if his hand had entered some other realm as it neared its target. The blade repulsed off the man’s skin, leaving no wound.

  Engin felt his arm go numb, and his senses began to rattle inside of his own head.

  The intruder was yelling in his face. Louder and louder. He couldn’t make out the words. He was dizzy.... seeing two faces... then three... then a myriad of eye floaters. Everywhere.

  The blade dropped from his hand.

  He heard a battle cry.

  Krip was at the man’s waist, trying to take him down. Perry came running after him.

  And then Little Tommy. And then Boog. One by one all of the orphans had surrounded the intruder.

  “Put him down!” Someone screamed.

  “I’ve got him by the leg!” Another yelled.

  The intruder was overwhelmed, shouting profanities and trying to hold his ground.

  Engin felt his feet hit the floor.

  There it was in front of him. Glimmering in the chaos.

  The obsidian blade.

  He grabbed for it amidst the moving bodies.

  I have no aya. He thought to himself. I can’t channel any motes. I’m useless.

  The intruder was throwing the orphans off now. Merabella’s head hit the floor. Little Tommy and Cisco tripped over their own uncoordinated attempts of force.

  And Perry!

  Perry was palmed by the shoulder and flung across the room.

  Boog was the only one strong enough to hold on. He had the intruder stumbling backwards, right up until the man swung around and clocked him on the nose with his fist.

  “KRIP!” Engin called out.

  He’s the strongest channeler here. He can use the rune!

  Engin slid the knife across the floor towards Krip who was recovering from a shove. It rolled to a stop at his feet.

  Krip looked down at it confused, uncertainty clouding his eyes.

  Engin trusted him enough to understand. He ran towards the intruder, trying to get his attention away from Boog.

  The intruder spun around and grabbed Engin again.

  A throbbing pain lashed the side of his face. He felt his knees buckle.

  The ground was shaking. The foundations of the manor quaking as if it too was in deep pain.

  A smoke lingered in the air, the same trace of fire that had billowed out of the foyer.

  “Off of me!” shouted the intruder. He spun again.

  Krip tried to puncture the man’s defenses with the dagger, but his mote channels were much too weak. His power motes dissipated around him, scattering like tiny red specks of pollen in the air.

  Engin vaulted onto the man’s back, trying to grab at his face.

  He was shoved down again. This time right into Krip’s lap.

  The intruder was breathing heavy, panic stricken... unsure.

  The manor shook again, as if it was crumbling... cracking at its very foundation.

  Engin’s hand fell on the dagger again. Blood pooled down the side of his lips.

  You children are the light of my life...

  This time it was different.

  This time it felt new.

  Something had opened up inside of him. A gateway... a channel. He felt the power of the rune in the dagger, helping him shape whatever it was that he desired.

  The intruder’s eyes turned entirely white behind a cascade of green, his pupils tightening at the sight of what Engin had channeled.

  Engin’s hands burned a vicious pain, surrounded by a viridian veil of hex mota. A part of him jumped, a part of him still afraid.

  He couldn’t control it. He couldn’t hold on.

  Conjuring them for the very first time had taken away all that was left of his will.

  No…no, no, no.

  The motes began to fade away... just as quickly as they had formed. The green of their light flickered dead like old candles blown out.

  A thin but scraping shhhlink cut right through the unsettled air.

  “ENOUGH!” Commanded the intruder.

  His voice boomed across the room, throbbing as if it had a heartbeat of its own. He had pulled out his sword. Long and grey, emanating strands of silver smoke that coiled like boas right up to its tip. All it would take was one swing. One swing to take off Engin’s head.

  The man’s face was sweating with terror, hands trembling at the hilt of his blade.

  He didn’t want to do it.

  Whoever he was, whatever he was... he wasn't the monster like the man in the foyer.

  “AGHHHHH!” The intruder exhaled, clenching his fists, erupting a cry of frustration, veins bulging, raw and ragged as if it had been clawing its way up for hours. “Damn you Amadeus! DAMN YOU!”

  He sheathed his sword back, taking a glance at the orphans around him.

  “I want no part in this...” he said, deeply regretful. “The storms can have me...”

  He ripped a bracelet from around his wrist. The beads scattered across the floor like tiny pearls.

  Engin watched as the man shattered a bay window with his mere fists and climbed out in a hurry. His figure disappeared behind a sea of billowing darkness.

  Cold air seeped through, mixing with a smoldering heat from above.

  Engin looked over to Perry. His eyes were shut, unmoving.

  Krip moved Engin off of his leg.

  “We have to go-”

  Suddenly, the ceiling caved in.

  Wham! Came the impact. Like a star-rock, falling from the sky and sundering some land in half.

  An orchestra of wooden support beams, furniture and flooring, collapsed in heaps of blazing rubble.

  Engin's body was weak. Every breath was an intake of soot and hot ash. His hands and shoulders stung with the torment of coals, flickering like a fire on bare wood.

  I-I can’t move…

  His vision was beginning to fade.

  He felt himself being dragged.

  At the far end of the room, trapped behind a debris field of embers, was an unconscious Perry, his face melting away in a crimson mask, and his arms slumped to one side.

  “PERRY!” Engin felt himself shriek.

  His insides churned into a violent panic.

  A pair of arms went limp around his neck.

  It was Krip. Trying to pull him with all his strength.

  “Perry...” Engin tried to tell him. “Perry!” He lifted a finger to point.

  “We can’t!” Krip’s voiced hitched from behind him.

  “No!” Engin tried to push Krip’s hands away. He tried to crawl across the molten floor. Scratching and clawing.

  “ENGIN WE CAN’T!” Krip restrained his arms, yanking on his collar. “We can’t…”

  Billowing flames spewed ash and scorching embers from the rubble towards them, singing their exposed skin.

  He could not stop crying. He could not stop yelling his name. Perry. Perry.

  There was nothing left.

  The world had become a fiery nightmare.

  And it went blank.

  ...

  When Engin awoke, it was quiet again. He was on a saddle, leaning against the armored chest of a trooper.

  His heart skipped a beat.

  Was it Amadeus?

  No.

  It wasn’t.

  This was a different man. In tempest gear.

  Surrounding them was a cadre of mounted troopers, all carrying lanterns and all carrying orphans.

  The night was still young. And the fog was alive... fighting the light, as if it had a will of its own.

  He had never seen it before, not like this, not with his own eyes. Something howled in the distance.

  "Faster!" Someone commanded.

  The steeds picked up their pace.

  Whispers weaved around them, tumbling into one another like wildfire smoke. It was becoming harder to see anything, even with the light.

  And yet... as nightmarish as it was, there was a sort of freedom to it, an unchained moment of peace attached to the eerie silence.

  And it was in that moment, that Engin knew... nothing was ever going to be the same again.