Page 27 of Lured By the Dus
He held out his hand, revealing a bronze skeleton key, small but elegantly designed. He’d even taken the time to fasten a leather cord around it, creating a necklace.
“What is it for?”
“This key will unlock anything you come across, even magical items.”
“Ah, something useful for while I’m sneaking around the palace.”
Oren held up the necklace. “Yes, will you allow me?”
I nodded, pulling my hair to one side as he moved behind me and knotted the key around my throat, warm fingers grazing my neck. Unable to help myself, I sucked in a breath, inhaling his woodsy scent, then shivered as the cold metal touched my bare skin. I held up the key and ran my fingers over the grooves. “You made this? Were you a blacksmith in another life? First a tailor, and now this?”
“I learned a trick or two during my days, although it should not have taken me so long to make it. When I sink into a task, I often lose track of time.” He trailed off, for he’d already apologized.
I marveled at the key a bit longer before putting it down, my stomach twisting at the idea of entering the vault again.
“Tomorrow, we return to the city,” Oren explained. “Speak with your aunt, find out more about the runes in the vault, get a copy of them if you can. I need to see them in order to break the magic, and as you know, I can’t go down there myself.”
My attempt to memorize the runes hadn’t gone well, and after entering the vault, all I had thought about was escape. “Oren,” I protested. “What if the sorcerers and priests catch me? I believe the answer to what you seek lies in the temple, but it’s only a matter of time. The other day was pure luck.”
“No, it wasn’t.” He moved to the edge of his seat. “Why do you think I made you these clothes? They blend into the walls, into shadows, so you aren’t likely to be seen. And my magic protected you. The vow we spoke did its work.”
I closed my mouth because there didn’t seem to be another option. “I don’t like it,” I grumbled.
He leaned closer until I could taste the apples on his breath. “You still have a choice to make.”
And then he pulled away, leaving me breathless and angsty.
He strode about the room, restless. It reminded me of when the circus came to Solynn, and the creatures paced in cages, leaving me wondering if they desired to be free. I bit my lower lip, studying the gracefulness and power of Oren’s movements, as though he were one of those wild beasts waiting for liberation.
When he spoke, I stilled, lost in the intonation of his musical voice.
“In the beginning, the Creator designed the celestial and the mundane. That’s how it all began. Magic spread throughout the world, freely given, until mortals and immortals alike abused it. Their deeds caused darkness and evil abound. Oppression and unfairness spread liberally, and the inhabitants of this world turned their back on the Creator, the very one who gave them life, who gave them everything. They trusted more in the work of their hands than what faith, belief, and magic could provide. They used science and innovation, the laws of nature, to overrule the Creator’s designs, and they were allowed to do so, for we have free will to decide our fate. But in the darker corners of the world, the quieter places, magic still abounds and Others dwell in the shadows where none can capture and study them for science. In those remote places, unusual things happen because of such magic.”
I clasped my hands in my lap, sensing he was about to tell me things I’d never heard before. His first words were like the journal, but perhaps the text was at a level that went over my head. He was right. I’d have to read and re-read it to comprehend it fully, but his words were a clue to the mystery of what was happening in Dowler.
“Magic became elusive, and few understood how to capture and wield it for their own means. Often, the unexplained would happen, and it usually involved music. Thus, those who wanted to use great magic turned to music as a way to draw power to them and use it for their own means. Magical users have many names—wizard, enchantress, sorcerer, musician. Once a sorcerer made plants grow with only his voice. Another summoned spirits with his violin, and others opened portals into undiscovered lands, allowing mortals and immortals to come and go as they pleased. I am no more unique than any of them, and sometimes I wonder what happened to them. Whether they overcame their dark pursuits.”
“Did all of them—the magic users—turn evil?” I asked, for his words suggested the dark trajectory of their deeds.
He faced me, arms crossed, wavering before he said, “Yes.”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Would you say that you are evil too?”
A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat. “It depends on who you speak to. Magic causes change, power can go to the head. A long, long time ago, I made mistakes and I’m forced to endure the repercussions of those mistakes.”
When he ceased speaking, a shadow fell over his face, revealing a hollowness that made my heart ache. Had the years of his life been kind to him, or did he prefer to return to his coffin and sleep in blissful unawareness? I supposed mortality was a blessing—at least one day I’d die, and while that thought was morbid, it was also a relief. I wouldn’t have to keep going on and on and on endlessly.
For the first time, I thought I might understand my dangerous, devilish captor and why his actions were so extreme. It was no excuse for what he’d done, and what he was doing now, but it cast a bit of light into the darkness. He was driven to free the magic-thralls because they were all he had. And once they were free, then what? Would he go back to sleep? Channel his anger toward something else?
If I were a good wife, I’d comfort him and promise to follow his rules, but he was a maniac, hell bent on destruction. If I didn’t stop him, who would? After all, I’d been the one to wake him. Instead of running, I should put him back to sleep where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.
My conscience pricked at me still though, for without the Piper, who had the power to save the magic-thralls?
20Tanith
Despite how many times we’d dashed through the city on Oren’s nightmare horse, I’d never grow used to the terrifying sensation that gripped me as it moved—wings spread, muscled bunched, legs elongated, and Oren’s arm around my waist, holding me tight.
We burst into the courtyard, the repaired gates open to welcome us. He swung off the horse, taking me with him. When my feet touched the ground, I expected him to let go, but instead his arm tightened, pulling me closer until our faces were mere inches away. I flushed under his scrutiny but did not back down. “Don’t get caught,” he whispered gruffly, his breath feathering my lips.
