The One Who Will Kill Me...

Kiaan Ikhoza had timed his arrival just right. The sun had descended past the horizon and the sky reverted from its orange-red and purple glow to midnight blue. The moon was full and bright, reflecting off the lake in the valley below. The fishing barges had pulled into the docks and all Kiaan could hear was the faint sound of music in the distance. The small lakeside town seemed like it had a low population as well. This would be a good spot to rest.

He shifted his bag on his back and continued into town. With every step closer, he felt an air of calm fall over him. The town smelled of baking bread, smoky fish and freshwater. It reminded Kiaan of his hometown and the garden back at school. When his mind thought back to school, though, he felt a chill go down his spine and shook those thoughts from his head. He had to stay in the present. Stay in the present and start over.

A bell jingled as Kiaan entered the inn and a plump clerk looked up. “Welcome to the Emerald Lake Inn of Sogros. My name is Silvia, how may I assist you?” she said. Kiaan smiled politely and dipped his head.

“Hey, thanks for welcoming me. I’m looking for a room,” he said.

“You’re in luck, then.” Silvia pulled out a small booklet and flipped through some pages. “We have a number of rooms available. What kind of lodging do you need?”

Kiaan rubbed his chin and shrugged. “Preferably somewhere a little secluded with a desk?”

Silvia nodded and wrote a few things down. “Okay, we have just the thing. Our master suite is on the top floor of the inn. Includes a desk and a nice view of the Emerald Lake. Would that be to your liking?” Kiaan thought on it for a moment. The further away he was from other people, the better he’d feel about being in a town he didn’t know surrounded by people of the same origin. He’d also need the desk if he was going to continue his research.

“I’d like that,” Kiaan replied. “How much will that be?”

“250 kālā.” The answer was so matter-of-fact that Kiaan didn’t even register how low it was. Then it clicked. The two hundred and fifty wasn’t for his extended stay. It was per night.

“Per night, right?” he asked, just to confirm and partially hoping he hadn’t misinterpreted what she said.

The woman nodded pleasantly and Kiaan sighed. Spending kālā was not an issue. Kiaan had won a twenty-five thousand kālā purse two weeks before his good luck had ended. He could stay one hundred nights if he desired although he didn’t suspect he’d need that long to figure out what he needed to.

Kiaan reached into his pocket and placed seventeen hundred and fifty pieces on the counter, two hundred and fifty in seven bags. The innkeeper gawked at the amount and then looked up at him.

Embarrassed under her confused gaze, Kiaan chuckled and said, “That should cover me for about a week. If I need more time, I’ll let you know.” Silvia nodded slowly and pulled the bags of money closer to her and began to open one, her eyes glimmering. She suddenly gathered herself and sucked in a quick breath.

“We also offer a luxury bath and one of our lovely girls could assist you if you’re having trouble. All you have to do is ring the bell in your bathroom,” she said. Kiaan blinked and felt a fire rise in him. It had been quite a while since he’d felt any kind of female touch, even before he’d started his journey. He’d love to experience some kind of affection or touch, whether it was genuine or manufactured by the amount of money he’d paid for his room. But instead, he steeled himself and put his emotions and needs down. He had a job to do and didn’t need any distractions.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” he replied. The innkeeper nodded and reached behind the desk and back up again, this time with the room key in hand.

“I hope you find your room to your liking, sir,” she said. Kiaan nodded and sighed softly when he was out of earshot. It was draining to feign sociability when all he wanted to do was sleep and even that desire had to be carefully prepared for. He had work to do.

Kiaan walked up the stairs, passing the ornaments on the wall ranging from the largest fish Kiaan had ever seen in person and the head of a silver-pelted bear. After wondering briefly where he’d be able to find the hunter who killed the bear, Kiaan continued to the last room down the hall, tucked into a corner. The key jingled in his hand has fiddled with the lock as he opened the door. It creaked softly on its hinges and Kiaan noted that there wasn’t a speck of dust that moved.

The smell of mint and pine floated in the air and saw four candles burning on a small table at the side of the bed. Everything seemed to have been recently prepared. Kiaan suspected that the old fishing town of Sogros was a common rest stop for rich travelers or merchants and this master suite was the most common place that men of such self-importance wanted to lodge. From the enormous desk and the large drum of ink with the quill sitting elegantly at the side, this was a worthy workstation for his endeavors.

He set his bag down and dug inside, pulling out a large tome and loose pieces of paper. The tome was the leading source of information about Iké and its functionality written by the then apprentice Tamas Vada as his dissertation. There were some additions to the text based on new discoveries that had been made over the years and Kiaan had made sure to secure the latest edition before he left the Akai Academy. Kiaan flipped to where he had left off before stopping in Sogros.

The Spiritual Connection to Iké

Kiaan opened up the loose pieces of paper, going through various scribbles he had made. Imperceptible notes to the untrained eye, though perfectly readable to Kiaan and any other trained Maalum that might stumble upon his research. Initially, Kiaan had been extremely protective of his work however, he was almost begging for someone else’s eyes and mind for assistance. But he couldn’t let anyone that close to him. It was extremely dangerous to be in town now, even if the population seemed to be small.

Sighing, Kiaan continued to read and take notes. When the writing began to veer into outright speculation on the spiritual dimension, Kiaan took a special interest. Magister Vada wrote on his theory that Iké existed because during the creation of the world, there were small dimensional tears where Iké either seeped from or there was so much Iké used to create the world, that the gods’ fingerprint included infusing everything in the world with it.

Dimensional tears, Kiaan thought. The concept in itself was a wild one to grasp. Magister Vada seemed to believe so as well as he quickly discredited the belief as pure fantasy while ironically stating that the gods’ fingerprint was left on all things. Kiaan wrote down the phrase dimensional tears in code on his notes and continued to read.

When there was no other information on the subject, Kiaan closed the tome and leaned back on his desk.

He suddenly felt his aching legs, throbbing back and the imminent implosion of his temples. He needed to eat and sleep. Before he attempted to go out and find food, Kiaan took off his clothes, folded them, and sat them on the floor next to his bag. He then sat on his bed, crossed his legs then closed his eyes.

Silence fell on the room all at once then louder again, but faint specific sounds. Kiaan could hear the crackling of the wispy fire on the candlestick, leaves rustling from the slight breeze outside and his heartbeat slowing.

He chanted an incantation, “Okan: Ngao Ati Linda.” Kiaan’s Iké began to swirl around him as a small seal appeared on his hand. A mind protection spell he had forced himself to learn for his own sake that would guard him for a maximum of eight hours, all the time he needed to sleep. The okan application of Iké had been a struggle for Kiaan to learn while he was still in the Academy, which was ironic as it had to do with controlling the perception of the mind. While Kiaan considered himself fairly skilled in utilizing the ara application for performing physical feats and umoya in combination with it to cast higher-level spells, he had found okan tedious to learn. That is until his life depended on it.

With his mind protected, Kiaan locked the door to his room, stripped his clothes off. He looked down at his right arm and traced his finger over the tattoo that stretched from his shoulder down to his fingers. Shuddering slightly, Kiaan laid his head on the pillow. The bed was soft as a cloud and Kiaan appreciated the comfort, wishing that he was enjoying it under better circumstances. He listened to the croaking frogs out near Emerald Lake as he drifted to sleep.

The next thing Kiaan heard was yelling coming from the lobby of the inn and when he peeked outside, he saw the moon still hung high in the sky. The perimeter of his mind seal had faded into a semi-circle so Kiaan surmised that about two hours had passed.

What the hell is going on down there? he thought as he rose to his feet and put on a pair of trousers. He opened the door to the suite to hear the commotion better and a few slurred voices echoed.

“What ya mean there’s no rooms available? You can’t see we got coin for you?” one voice spoke.

“As I’ve said, sirs,” Silvia’s voice came in response. “We’re booked for the night. You may be able to rent a pleasure barge for the night…”

“A pleasure barge? From this bunghole fishing town?” One of the men stepped toward the desk and slammed his hands on the wooden counter. “We’re veterans of the fucking Black Ember War, gods be damned! We deserve respect!”

The Black Ember War? Kiaan thought. The war had been over for fifteen years now, ending in the Battle of Ränder twenty-five miles from this town. Maybe these men were Caelestians abandoned by their kingdom as they sailed away to their country in defeat. Either way, they needed to leave before they caused any further issues.

Kiaan descended the flight of stairs, purposely stepping loudly to draw the drunk band of men away from Silvia. “You don’t think it’s a bit rude to scream in the middle of a lobby while people are trying to sleep?” he asked, his voice irritated. The tallest of the men was still a few inches shorter than him but much wider with broad shoulders and a short, mean bulldog-like face. He turned from Silvia and glared at Kiaan.

“Go back up to your room, pretty boy. This ain’t your business,” the man said.

Kiaan sucked his teeth and sighed. “Regardless, you’re being loud and rude. Demanding a room doesn’t suddenly make one available.” He pointed to the outside of the inn. “I suggest that you all leave now before you can’t.”

The incredulous look on the man’s face suggested that Kiaan had said something either stupid or incredibly funny. Finally, the levy broke, and the group of old soldiers guffawed. “You’re threatening us?” he asked.

Kiaan sighed sharply as his anger flared and he felt a twinge in his right arm. His left hand instinctively went to his bicep and gripped tightly. Dammit, already? he thought before he took a deep breath. No, just an adrenaline rush. I’ve just got to stay calm. He let his left arm drop to his side.

“No, just foretelling the inevitable.” Kiaan crossed the floor quickly, enhancing his speed with a quick burst of ara Iké to his feet. He used the added strength to his legs to stop right in front of the bandit leader and front kick him through the door. When the wood splintered and the hinges tore off, Kiaan cringed. He heard Silvia gasp loudly and thought for a moment that he might’ve overdone it.

However, his sudden display of strength caused the rest of the bandits to quickly back away from the desk. All Kiaan had to do was glare at them and the bandits cleared out of the lobby and out the door. They stopped and picked their leader up. He grabbed his chest and coughed a trickle of blood up. In a fit of rage, he shook himself free from his men and stared at Kiaan, eyes burning like a phoenix.

“Mark my words, lad,” he said, just loud enough for Kiaan. “My name is Markus Zargat! That is the name of the man who will kill you, Maalum!” The soldiers carried the commander down the road, dragging his feet through the mud. They vanished when the moonlit pathway descended into darkness.

Pondering the man’s words, Kiaan sighed. Doubtful, he thought gravely. The name of the one who will kill me is Kiaan Ikhoza.