​​​​32 Waiting for an Age

Year 913YC, eleven years earlier

‘THERE’S NOTHING TO IT,’ said Lorn as she dangled her feet over the edge. Wither sat on the wall beside her, enjoying the spring sunshine. The river gurgled beneath them. He watched in fascination as she held the pigeon. The bird wasn’t dead but unconscious, feathers sticky with blood. The juvenile slinkt had fled when it heard them approach.

Wither’s heartbeat quickened as he saw the wings flutter. It opened its eyes and cocked its head to look at them. She smiled at it, and with a quick gesture, thrust it out over the river. The bird took flight, wings thrumming the air, wounds healed.

‘It’s amazing,’ said Wither.

Lorn’s smile had vanished with the bird. Replacing it was a darkness he didn’t understand, but had come to associate with her. When she was smiling, she was a different person, but those moments were rare.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she answered. ‘Something else will kill it, and all I did will be as nothing. Your way is better.’

Wither picked a delicate blue flower from atop the wall. He concentrated on its shape, felt for the glow inside of him. Felt it erupt. The flower blackened and turned to ash. ‘How,’ he asked in a hoarse voice, ‘is this better?’

‘Nothing and no one can undo what you’ve done,’ said Lorn. ‘It’s more honest, real. All I do is give false hope. The bird will die. In the next hour, day, or week. Another kecc or slinkt will get it, or a hawk.’

‘Then why bother? asked Wither. ‘Why didn’t you let it die?’

‘The undead will return. You heard her. It won’t be long now.’

Wither felt his face grow hot. ‘I’m sick of hearing about it.’

‘Think about it. The undead returned to guard us living. There’s something honest about it too, and I like the idea of this viral mage. I bet he’ll be powerful, greater than all of us put together. Can you imagine?’

Wither didn’t like the way she smiled when she spoke of him. Did she have some prescient knowledge of this viral? He didn’t think she had such ability. Although, she’d lied to Scatter about what she could do. Their leader hadn’t liked that, though they all held something back. Instinct, he guessed. ‘I don’t like undeaders,’ was all he said.

‘How do you know?’

‘I just do.’

‘You’ve never met one.’

‘Maybe I did.’

‘There are none left, you idiot.’

‘What’s to like about them anyway? They’re dead, Lorn, rotting and shambling about. With bits falling off, I bet. I don’t plan to meet one, ever. Plagueborn spreading sickness. Those purges were the best thing that ever happened.’

‘Don’t say that,’ she snapped, and leapt from the wall to land in the tall grass, feet from the water’s edge. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know.’ Anger twisted her features, as she added, ‘A lot you don’t understand. You’ve a small mind like all the others.’ She stalked away.

He noticed Raze nearby, chucking stones into the river. ‘What do you want?’

‘She’s right,’ said the other boy. ‘All we know is death. She’s far cleverer than either of us. Too much about her is strange, though. You should stay away from her. You know, like Scatter ordered you to, twice.’

‘The Grim can go piss on you, Raze. This is none of your business.’

The pale-skinned boy hauled himself up the wall, and took Lorn’s place. ‘No, you need to listen. You don’t bother with her. Like I said, there’s something off.’

‘Scats send you to spy on me, did she?’

‘You don’t want to upset her. Lorn does enough already. You’re Scatter’s favourite. Why mess it up?’

‘Keep your nose out of it, Raze. I’m warning you.’

The other boy snorted. ‘Nobody likes her, you know. She complains all the time, and she’s always gloomy. Here, let me show you what I can do.’ Upon the opposite bank, a small tree erupted into flames. ‘Life and death are a part of existence. Lorn can’t accept it. It’s her weakness.’

‘No, her weakness is never shutting up about the Age of some grolg-buggering undead mage. You’d swear she was in love the way she goes on. Even Scats doesn’t talk about him like that.’

‘You want to kill them, don’t you?’ Raze said in a quiet voice. ‘Those who murdered your family. I get it, you know. We all do. We’re with you. When the time comes.’

Wither nodded not trusting himself to speak. Anger and hate filled him. He knew Lorn wouldn’t have approved. Nobody understood her, nobody but him. Not even Scatter. Lorn wasn’t gloomy, or difficult. She was lost and alone. He knew those feelings. Maybe it was why he liked her the way he did. Might be why her carrying on about the viral got him riled up. Because, when she spoke of him, she possessed a glint in her eye with a secret smile she never had for him. He knew it was stupid but he couldn’t help it.

‘What’re with those marks anyway?’ asked the other boy.

‘What?’ Wither came to as if out of a daze. He glanced at his bared arms.

‘They look like some sort of tattoo. My people, where I come from, they like tattoos. Don’t seem worth coming to blows with Scatter over though. By the way, she could’ve hurt you bad last time. Others are looking to get in as her favourite. Let her examine them. What’s the harm in her looking?’

Wither pulled down the sleeves of his tunic, and glared at his companion.

‘You’re right, she did send me,’ said Raze after a minute of ugly silence. ‘Come on, you know how she gets.’

More lessons, and training. Impatience was growing inside of him. A boy desperately wanting to become a man, to avenge his family. Scatter promised a time was coming when the virals would save the world, and destroy their enemies.

Wither wouldn’t wait for it. Why let him have all the pleasure of killing redcloaks. No, he would not wait. Soon, he’d be ready. If any viral got in his way he’d destroy it too. When Lorn wasn’t looking. He could blame it on Raze. Yes, the longer he thought about it, the more certain he became.

‘Come on,’ he said getting to his feet and jumping from the wall. ‘Let’s not keep the all-knowing witch waiting.’