Crystals of Memory: A Novella

  Slave of Salina

  P.S. Power

  Orange Cat Publishing

  Copyright 2023

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Chapter one: Magic all around...

  Chapter two: Brutality Thy Name is Salina

  Chapter three: Burning

  Chapter four: A Light Touch

  Chapter five: Road Work

  Chapter six: The Slave of Salinda

  Chapter one: Magic all around...

  Collin kept his mouth shut, even managing a soft, hopefully polite, smile as his sister railed against the unfairness of their situation. Ezola, looking even more thin and pale in the last weeks, her hair lank from lack of proper care and a certain odor coming from her that wasn’t healthy or attractive at all, foamed at the mouth. Only a small portion, with flecks of white at the corners, and a bit of spital flying as she spoke. She wasn’t truly insane. Not yet.

  She was simply trying desperately to work herself into that state. As if it would aid either of them at all.

  “I simply cannot believe these people! We’re being turned out as slaves, to serve their every need. That... Boy, Niven... Grrr!”

  Collin finally turned on her. Fighting, even arguing would do no good at all. She was only a sister but was his elder, after all. A whole three years so, in fact. To her that meant she was always the one who understood the world. The person who, between them, was correct. Unless someone in power over her contradicted that, of course. Then she’d act as if common sense or even the whim of a powerful person had been meant as a direct insult to her person.

  He’d tried, in the past, to simply tell her to leave off from that way of thinking. It had been harder at home, with their older brother Carl and even at times their father. Carl hated them both. It was a real thing, too, not simply a bit of brotherly neglect or a desire to see the boy, as Carl referred to him, finally take a real place in the world. No, he’d known for a very long time that his elder brother would gladly kill him, if he could manage it.

  Ezola understood that as well, on some level. It was, he feared a matter that hadn’t changed when Carl had stepped down as their father’s heir, a week before. Pressed to it by his insane attacks on Anders. Ander’s Brolly, the War Bow. The man who had, in his own person, marched into Yanse and taken that entire land, leading the army and his own personal force of war mages.

  Standing in the front, doing most of the fighting, and killing, himself. Even people who hated him admitted that he was a true force to be reckoned with. A being to fear.

  So, naturally, Carl tried to kill him, and when spanked, gently, for the act, had gone a bit mad with anger and struck out, over and again. Collin had tried to tell him not to bother. To send Ander’s a strongly worded letter to make him feel bad instead of trying to use magic to assassinate him but no, that was too intelligent for a Caldas. At least one on that side of the family.

  He shook himself for a moment and then glared, slightly, at Ezola. She, in her own thoughts and emotional shelter didn’t notice that taking place. The sudden change. He looked around, since the wagon they were in was bouncing, just a bit. Everyone else was on horseback but Ezola didn’t truly ride well and had pressed their captors to put them in the wagon. To guard it. It did have about a third of the food, so that made some sense.

  It was, after all his job, using magic of all things, to transform the coarse grain berries and other raw ingredients they had with them into creations of splendor and delectability. Even using magic, he had to admit he was probably failing at every meal. No one complained about it but several of the others picked at their food, even if they used incredible amounts of energy each day, doing their own magics.

  Still, after a quick glance, to see that no one was watching, or listening, to them in particular, he used a new trick, casting out with his mind, to see if anyone was observing them that way. He wasn’t grand at that skill but did try to do the exercises that Brolly, their cousin, had given them. Ezola barely bothered to make even a token attempt, of course. As if being willful and annoying was going to save her.

  When he opened his eyes, he leaned in.

  “Stop.” His own words hissed, anger rippling from them.

  Ezola actually blinked. She started into tight lipped anger, when he put his right hand out, toward her.

  “That. Stop doing that. No one here is wronging us! Cousin Andy saved our lives. After we tried to kill him. Well, after you did. I just got lumped into that. Still, here we are. No chains. No daily beatings. Given regular lessons in powerful magics that neither of us had ever even dreamed of attempting on our own. As for Niven Kilroy... He’s nine. I understand you bristle at the fact that he’s better at magic than you are, as well as more of an adult but that’s for you, for both of us, to fix in ourselves. It doesn’t mean we should hold such against him.”

  He readied himself for several hours of low-voiced ranting then. Muttered explanations of why he was never going to amount to anything at all in the world. How, at very best, he might turn out to be a rather poor cook, if he was lucky at all.

  He’d been trained for it, nearly as an insult. Carl had suggested it, since apprenticing his younger brother to a task like that was meant to emasculate him. A thing that his father had ignored, trusting in the wisdom of a fool, blind as he was by the love of his first child and heir, and that Ezola had reveled in, using against him a thousand times. As proof that he was indeed useless in the world.

  For a moment it hit him again. A stress that rippled across his skin. Ander’s, too, had made him into a cook. For their trip to the front in a war that might be no more than a visit to some troops on the border. No one had truly told him the score there. Then, until a week before, he’d been there as a hostage. No one had mentioned him not being that any longer, either. At the same time, he couldn’t see why he would be. Carl was out as heir and would never be Duke Caldas. Little Don, his older brother, would be.

  A state that was, for him, far better. Donny might be a bit too quick to tease a younger sibling but he’d never been cruel or seeking to harm anyone. It wasn’t a perfect state but when his father died, Collin might actually survive, in the new regime. That had to hold but the King had signed off on it, with his own word, so it was going to.

  Still, he waited for his elder sister to sound off. To scream, perhaps, and to make their lives even harder. Instead she...

  Nodded.

  Then whispered.

  “I know. I just... We’re trapped here. We have no place and there’s no one we can trust to aid us. We need to escape.” Her words were hissed again but this time reeked of a true and abiding fear. An existential terror that rippled from her troubled mind. So strongly he could sense it with wizardry, not even trying to do so.

  He felt it too, of course. Everything in their world was gone. Even the lands they rode through were dry, and golden. That or tan. Bits of green existed in places, and then they’d change, into a lush but strange forest. A jungle, with humid air that made it difficult to breathe, and insects that tried to consume them alive.

  At the moment it was the near desert that they were in and would be for several days, according to Cousin Andy. Swallowing, he looked up and waved at the blond boy. He looked to be a good four years younger than Collin and was in the middle of his great growth. The boy was lean but pressing upward, even as they traveled. Over the last months he’d gained half a handspan, at least.

  A bit lazily but with a gentle, if long suffering smile on his lips, the young man got his pony, Juniper, to saunter toward them, moving even with them, from the right.

  “You have need, Collin? We can call a rest if you need such. Several people probably will, soon. I was hoping to reach water, there should be some about an hour ahead of us at this pace.” He didn’t look troubled at all. Not even mean, or suspicious.

  He hesitated, then dove in. Asking what he should have, moments after his brother had stepped down as his father’s heir apparent.

  “Not truly, at the moment. An hour should be fine. I was wondering...” He paused, since Ezola was glaring at the boy, in a way that, had Collin done it would mean a fight taking place. Anders ignored the rudeness of her regard, focusing on him, even if he had to notice it. “Em, well... Are we prisoners still, or not?”

  He held his breath since the answer was almost certainly not going to be in his favor. Even if they were being kept as slaves, it might be legal there. Ander’s Brolly was a Prince of Barquea, after all. The land they were in at the very moment. So far away from the gentle green hills and valleys of Istlan. The man could say anything. They could, for instance, be well dropped off to fend for themselves, with no one even asking too hard after them, later.

  Some, perhaps but their lives were no doubt considered forfeit already, by those back home.

  Instead of calling him stupid, or barking an order for silence and obedience, Cousin Andy shook his head, instantly.

  “Oh! Forgive me, I thought that was very clear. No, you’re both free. That, you’re being used as hostages, has ended now. You can do anything you wish.” He glanced around. “Why, we could even go hunting if you want? Not that I see anything near us, as of yet.”

  Looking around, even with the grasslands showing a lot to them in the distance, Collin didn’t either. A sense of relief washed over him though. He nodded.

  “Good. So, if I’m not a prisoner, I should be allowed to learn more magic, correct?” He was about to begin a list of foods that could be improved, with some effort on his part, when Anders simply nodded.

  “That... Works. We have orders to do that, in fact, so it’s a good thought. Let me... Um...” The boy looked around, seeming to be sizing people up, then raised his own hand, and called out, to the front of the line.

  “Mary! Salina! This way if it pleases you!” He smiled, and even if it was an order for the robed women, of sorts, it was also pleasant. Kind seeming even.

  Not fitting of a young man known to have killed a mountains worth of people. Truly, if it hadn’t been for the fact that he was fairly incredible in magic and decent at fighting without such, Collin would have thought the legend a mere jest. Instead he had to credit it as being something less than the truth, having met the boy. The man.

  A true warrior, mage, and scholar.

  Nothing was spoken of until the two ladies, on larger horses than Anders’ tan filly reached them, both looking around as if they were about to be ambushed at any moment. Then, it was their job that day to see to keeping an eye out to the front. A thing he probably should have been doing himself. That or using wizard skills.

  Instead of letting himself be distracted by his sister and her moods.

  “Mary, Collin was just asking after lessons for himself and Ezola, in magic. Would you be willing to work with Ezola? She’s mainly focusing on healing but if you’d see to the rest? Perhaps at a less intense speed than most have been pressing toward. Use your best judgment on that, of course.”

  He waited, the red-haired woman, with tan skin, currently, in disguise to travel more easily in the strange and exotic land of Barquea, looked at Ezola, sized her up and winced. It was subtle but there.

  Ezola, ever the charmer, sneered back, taking insult, even if it wasn’t exactly meant. Collin was no grand wizard of renown but even he caught the flash of worry from Mary. That she wasn’t up to the task. Not good enough to teach a skill that she’d only just started learning herself. Only, even if not the strongest person there magically, the woman had vast skills, already. Knowing at least a thousand different spells.

  Ezola knew nearly fifty. Clearly one of them was doing better that way.

  Collin had more than that but not by a lot. Such learning had been kept from him, of course, being that he might need to be killed because of his brother being a madman.

  Still, his sister spoke, opening her mouth when a more prudent mind would have had her close it. The issue there was a simple one, she thought that she was better than Mary. Only, that wasn’t the truth.

  “This woman is a whore. She sells her body to anyone with a coin and a kind word, and you expect me to learn from her? What would you have me do, service the men we find along the way? Spread my legs and open my mouth to any with a clipped copper? I thought you said we weren’t prisoners any longer.”

  There was some venom in the words. Heat. Also a deep sense of exhaustion. A thing earned, since no one with death hanging as closely over them as they both had been for months was going to rest easy at night. Many nights that hadn’t taken place at all.

  He spoke, before Mary realized that she could simply kill his sister and probably get away with it. She could certainly work out how to use magic for it and not have anyone tell on her, later. Still, he was her brother, so duty bound to protect her, if he could. Even if that chore was made more difficult by the woman with each passing day.

  “That’s probably a good trade to examine, sister. I think the idea was to look into magic but we can’t afford to be picky right now. So I see to meals and possibly hunting, and you can see to healing and servicing any of the men, or women, with a clipped coin to share. Do it. Thank you for the consideration, Mary. I know that you’ve left that life behind but if you could instruct Ezola in that task as well?”

  The goal, his desire, was to allow the others there to laugh, and Ezola to turn her ire on him. She might survive that, at least. Instead, Salina smiled.

  “Oh? I mean, we can’t actually have you do that for coin, Ezola. Not as the daughter of a nobleman from a land we consider friendly. Learning such skills can’t hurt, however. You’ll have a husband someday, and knowing how to please him is the duty of a good woman of Istlan, I believe?”

  She was looking at Collin, a bit of a glint in her brown eyes, as she spoke. She went without face paint or other trappings of vanity, and had returned to her normal, rather lovely, brown color, since it handled the sun better than pale skin did. A thing that he needed to look into himself. He had a large hat on, that Niven had made for him, to protect him from the sun. It was a fine creation, seeming to be of tightly woven grass, with a large brim on it so his face and neck were always in the shade. It was a bit hot and sweat collected around his forehead and hair.

  Ezola had one as well but it was in a lovely light blue color, with a highly decorated band on it. Again, made by the boy that she’d been whining about, not moments before.

  So, he nodded.

  “Again, our thanks, Mary. Now, Ezola, realize that you’re being teased for being rude and let it go? For once just assume that no one is actually trying to do the worst thing you can imagine? Please?”

  He expected little of her. That was her way through the world, after all. Anger, sniping and entitlement.

  Oddly, Salina spoke again.

  “That can be a difficult thing to learn. It took me years, and a lot of help from everyone around me. To understand that not everything is an insult? Even if it seems like it is.”

  Mary shrugged, took a deep breath and not seeming insulted at all by the name calling, smiled.

  “We can do that. Say ten new spell parts per day? Unless you want to do more. That, ten like that, is what I think people are going to be getting in proper schooling. The children, not the people going to the College. That’s what...” She blushed. It wasn’t unpretty.

  Then, the woman looked different now than she had before, and her darker skin made it harder to see her cheeks turn red. It was a soft thing, and after a moment, he realized he was staring. No one noticed him doing it, thankfully.

  Then, naturally, Ezola spoke.

  “Fine. We can do that. I... Was rude. I apologize.” The words were stiff, and clearly not meant.

  No one called attention to that portion of things.

  Mary simply waved a bit.

  “I was a whore in truth, for years. It’s not a bad life. Looked down upon by some but you give pleasure to those with desire, and comfort to those who often can’t find it elsewhere. Those aren’t high magic but it doesn’t make the world any worse, either.”

  Ezola actually managed a nod then and for once, wisely perhaps, managed to hold her tongue.

  Anders waved at Salina.

  “Collin can do more. He’s in the Istlan Mage Corps now. I’m assigning that to you as your cousin, so you can’t get out of it, even if you want to. Get him ready for that, please, Salina?” It was a question.

  Clearly the woman, lovely and delicate seeming, a bit too thin at the moment, from all her hard work, could have said no. Indeed, she should have. Collin wasn’t certain he could be a good student at all. He never had been, in the past, at least. He wasn’t anyone special, of course. Just himself. The lowest of his father’s children. The youngest and least valued.

  Rather than point out how inadequate he truly was, the woman simply nodded.

  “Understood. I need practice in teaching, anyway. We should have the others over for this, soon, as well but for now, close your eyes and enter the hallway of magic, Collin.”

  The woman spoke, riding next to him, a faint tickle testing his thoughts. Making certain he was doing what he was told.

  “Imagine a circle, with an arrow in it, pointing away from you, at the same time, your inner hand comes up, and you press forward, a trickle of energy traveling from your inner self, down your arm, through the sigil, imparting a sense of movement in a forward direction only, directly in front of your palm. Tighten the sense of the movement, only moving forward, the magic increasing... Good. Hold that now. Do not let go of that sense.”

  Correction came but after three minutes the task shifted. This time to a more complex hand sign, and the production of light over his fingers. Again, he learned a feeling for it, a hand position and a floating, imagined sigil.

 

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