Book 2 Ch 30: Synchronicity

If you do this job enough you start to make connections. Some can lead to a break in the case, but others are just the madness of a mind seeking to make sense of it all.

• Emeril Farlow, The Endless Gutter

Solomon sat alone in the dark of his cabin, the moonlight’s reflection on the water providing a gloomy din to every corner and shadow. He had always known that the Major Arcana were powerful, but it seemed that every time he learned more of them he needed to further adjust his estimation of them.

He’d spoken with Death very little, but he remembered how distinct her voice was behind the visage of the skull. The idea that she had been part of the necromancer rebellion was something he’d never considered. It was such a distant part of Drakthiss’s history. Just at the formation of the Union, before it had truly begun to become an empire. He guessed that some spell or ritual had granted her immortality, or at least something close to it. How many of the others among the major Arcana were immortals? How old was the Arcana if it counted an immortal among its members?

He pushed himself from the hammock, placing Crimson Command on the desk in front of himself and lighting a candle. There would be no more sleep that evening, he was certain. He lit a candle with his lighter and added to his notes, feeling himself calm as the sights, smells, and sounds of the battle slowly left him.

There wasn’t much he could do with his knowledge of Death. At least not yet. What was more interesting was the why of him seeing her and being able to make the connection. He looked at Crimson Command. The blade had seen hundreds of battles and yet he had seen two visions of very specific conflicts. Both involved powerful magics and significant events in Drakthiss history, and this latest one had actually involved a member of the Arcana. There was no chance that this was a coincidence. The blade was trying to be helpful. It was showing him information it thought would be useful to him.

He reached out and grabbed it, unsheathing it slightly to look at the red of its blade.

“Thank you,” he said, and he saw the sword’s mana shiver a bit.

He put the sword down, not ready for another vision, nor sure that he would have one and instead turned his attention back to his uncle’s journals. He’d have more than an hour before dawn which was more than enough time to make some progress. He opened the journal and found his place.

I let myself into Bronze’s home using an old piece of volk magic. There was an irony to that. To use a spell that required no mana after all I’d done to acquire it. His servants were asleep, but Bronze himself was awake at his desk, pouring over a tome. I was not quiet, nor was I subtle, there was no reason to be. I could feel the mana flowing and I wanted nothing more than to use it. This was foolish. In hindsight I was leaving all manner of trails that the Union could use to track me, but the whispers of the tall thin man and my own ecstasy dulled all sense of caution. I killed him by sending out a bolt of pure mana in the shape of a spike. It cored the center of his head and he fell forward. When his servants came to see what the noise was I repeated the process until they were all dead. I then searched his home for anything mystical he may have hidden and was rewarded with several old tomes and his remaining fairy blood vials.

The next several went similarly. I slew Gold while he was in the throes of pleasure with his mistress. Iron was a tough one, he reacted far more quickly than any of the others and attacked me with a sword, but I had already found a basic barrier spell and was able to dispatch him without being blooded. Steel was bathing, so I tested the functional uses of barrier by forcing him beneath the water and drowning him. Most of the rest aren’t even worth mentioning. Many were surprised I had been able to find them, as if a mask and a codename was enough to keep their identities fully hidden. Even without my own deduction though, the whispers would’ve guided me the rest of the way.

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Silver was the last, and also the most challenging. He knew I was coming. I am unsure if he had been warned by the others before I reached him or he had been forewarned in some other way. I found his manor abandoned, all the arcane knowledge stripped from it. Luckily, the whispers told me where to go.

I got one of my horses and rode alone onto the road from Brevantiss. Silver wasn’t so foolish as to head toward Ventariss, as that would take him close to Morrow holdings. My brother and I weren’t close, but he would certainly work to help me end a man that could say many damaging things about me and thus the family. He instead went towards Lindal.

I wasn’t able to catch him the first day, but on the dawn of the second I had reached him by riding all through the night and skipping meals. I felt as if I was a living wraith, driven only by the mana that suffused me and the dark whispers in my ears.

He had prepared for me. He had a weapon, a wand, that was capable of throwing objects at great speeds. While I pursued him on horseback he threw stones, branches, and anything else he could see in my direction. I took several blows, unable to fully control my barrier as well as I wanted, but I was not deterred.

I cast a spell that removes dirt to create a hole in front of his steed. Its legs broke and he was thrown forward. While his horse whinnied and cried I approached him. I’m sure I was a terrifying sigh. Sleepless, stained in blood, with madness in my eyes.

Silver made a few more attempts with his wand, and even managed to use the fairy blood he had to bind me for a few moments, but it wasn’t enough.

I recall that he didn’t ask me why. I think he knew. I think he may have heard the same whispers I had. He never told me, and the Tall Thin Man wasn’t one to answer those kinds of questions. When he was dead the whispers ceased, and I was left alone in the road. To some it may have seemed a tragedy, but I knew even then that it was the true beginning of my life. My rebirth.

Solomon placed the journal back down, looking at the light of dawn peering through the window. He wasn’t disturbed by his uncle’s decisions as he read them. The casual way in which he murdered his former compatriots, the way he basked in his newfound power. No, he was disturbed by the fact that he understood it. He understood the intoxicating feeling of magic that his uncle was talking about, he understood the desire to unleash it and damn the consequences. He didn’t think he would’ve gone as far as his uncle had, but he’d certainly made similarly dark decisions as of late, and put himself and his people at risk. His uncle revelled in the feelings it gave him, but Solomon would need to guard against them. He would need to challenge those easy patterns of thought which had begun roosting so comfortably within his mind.

He thrummed his fingers against the desk. All of those deaths at the same time in the capital? There would be a record of it. The timeline wouldn’t be too difficult to work out either. He would need to see what he could find. Perhaps when he passed back through Verntariss. He owed a favor to a dead man that he still needed to repay there anyway.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in, I’m awake.”

Edmure entered the room and gave Solomon a bow.

“Good morning, Lord. Shall I bring you breakfast? I believe we are out of fresh fruit, but I can see what else I can find.”

“I’ll trust your judgement. Have you heard from Officer Alanse regarding our progress?”

“It seems we're making incredible progress, Lord. It’s anticipated that our travel has been cut by nearly a third.”

Solomon raised an eyebrow. “That’s excellent news.”

Edmure nodded, and excused himself to get breakfast.

Solomon took a hand and pressed it against the living wood of the ship, closing his eyes and extending his senses. The cries were still quiet, and he could hear the soft songs of the sailors singing in elvish.

“Thank you,” he said, pushing some of his mana into the ship.

There was a warm feedback in his hand. He frowned as he pulled it back and looked at it.

“I wish that I deserved that.”