A Question of Trust
“Don’t fight it,” a sweet voice said, and Areon could feel a tugging at his soul, a twisted that threatened to separate soul from body as he lay motionless.
Where was he? What was happening? Who would do such a thing to him? Questions ran through his mind, chasing each other with an abandon that left little room for any other thought. He couldn’t let this happen, couldn’t let himself be swept away by whatever force was trying to sever him. He had a duty to complete, and a people to protect, one that would be ill-served if he was ripped in two.
Areon’s vision was limited; black shapes swirled at its edges but provided no information on what the room he was in looked like or who was around him. He couldn’t feel anything, but imagined himself gritting his teeth, reaching down inside himself and pulling his spirit from the bonds that held him.
A mental bellow translated quickly into a physical one and he could see the darkness around him dissolve as though hot water had been poured on ice. Great clouds of steaming blackness rose around him, but slowly his vision cleared, revealing a room both familiar and comfortable.
Knowledge and purpose flooded back, along with a healthy dose of embarrassment.
“It happened again, didn’t it?” The sweet voice came again. Anna had been trying for months to help him bridge the gap between his intellect and his magic, but with little success.
“Yes.” There was the taste of bitter defeat in his mouth. Few things in life had eluded him, but those that did always left behind an impression, an almost physical revulsion that he found hard to shake, and this was the worst of the lot.
“Damnit, Anna, why do I keep failing?” He rolled from the bed, throwing a quick fist at the unoffending bedspread.
“I’m not sure, my Lord.” She smiled across the room at him as she placed a small lock of hair back into place. Binding him took a great deal of effort, or so she said, but he rarely saw more than a light flush on her face after the fact. The lock meant he had struggled hard, and she had fought to keep him in the nether. “I suspect that it is simply the weight of your intellect that impedes the process.” She said it with a perfectly straight face, but Areon had to wonder if there was a slight hint of mockery. Of anyone in the Kingdom, Anna could get away with it, but she rarely used her unique position for anything of the sort. After a two months of straight failure, however, he’d forgive her if even her resolve began to slip.
“Yes,” he agreed, “that must be it. The weighty matters of state and my massive and resounding brilliance must be keeping me from reaching out to the powers beyond the wall.”
She smiled sweetly. “You think I jest, my Lord, but I do not. You are among the smartest of men I have encountered, both common and noble, and surprisingly one of the most humble. Both of these are beneficial traits in a ruler, but can make reaching out to what is unknown more difficult. Control is in your nature, both of yourself and the environment around you, and your instinct is to master what you do not know. The nether will never accept that.”
He waved her off. He understood the mechanics, at least in so far as they related to physical concepts he could comprehend. Long nights had been spent in Anna’s company as she patiently tried to explain that there were some things that operated in a different fashion on the other side, processes that did not conform to anything seen in the physical world.
The problem wasn’t understanding; it was execution. Each time he had tried to reach out for the latent magic Anna assured him lay within, each time he settled himself onto the bed and felt himself bound by her touch, he was sure that he would be successful, sure that he would finally achieve his goal.
And each time, he failed.
“We need to try something different,” he said, cutting a quick lap around the room. Anna preferred to sit and think when a problem vexed her, and while there was no arguing that she made a beautiful statue – with long golden hair and rosy cheeks over a flawless porcelain face – Areon felt the need to move. “I will always resist what you do, because when the nether comes to claim me, I can think of only its intrusion, its violence, and I resist.”
He paced for several more minutes, but to no effect. Though his thoughts whirled as angry wasps, they did nothing but sting each other to a death of logical fallacies. The world beyond his own escaped him, and it was frustrating in way few other things in his life had been.
“Ah,” said Anna quietly, and he turned.
“Yes?” He tried to keep his voice calm. A small word from her often meant a breakthrough, and he had learned to heed her advice.
“An idea, my Lord, but I cannot tell you the way of it.” She paused. “You must trust me. Can you?”
He hesitated. Trust was a difficult concept, especially for a ruler. A childhood spent surrounded by other rivals for leadership tended to color one’s perceptions.
“Yes,” he said finally. Anna had proven herself time and time again, and he was convinced that in order to effectively weather the current crisis, his control of magic would be necessary.
Anna was beside him in a moment, closer than she had ever been. Her lips glistened in the lamplight, and Areon had a difficult time keeping his eyes where they belonged.
“Anna –“ he began, but she didn’t give him time to finish.
A warm sensation followed a sharp burn along his stomach; Areon had been stabbed before.
- D
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