Michael

  Emma glided toward Michael with soundless steps, stopping in front of him. She took off her large straw hat with slow movements and looked up to meet his gaze. Her aged face showed no emotion—her mouth remained shut, her long gray hair fell loosely on her back—yet her icy-blue eyes told him she was angry with him.

  However, he didn't care what she thought. He turned his back on her and returned to his seat under the Zegoto tree. Emma followed him, taking a seat on the log nearest to him. She placed her straw hat beside her, put her hands in her lap, and remained silent as she watched the sunlit road ahead.

  He sighed, knowing the reproach that awaited him, and perhaps he deserved it, but he felt no remorse for what had happened. He had encountered a problem and made the decision he considered appropriate at the time to resolve it. He was convinced of that. And no matter what argument she presented to contradict him, he knew he was right.

  “Who were you aiming at when you threw the spear?” Michael asked. He decided to start the conversation, or else she would never leave.

  “At you,” she replied without looking at him and without showing any remorse.

  "Did you try to kill me?"

  “I knew you would dodge it, unlike your poor opponents.”

  “Thank you for the compliment… Will you ask me about what happened, or do you already know everything?”

  At last, she turned to look at him. “I hope your explanation validates what you just did. And rest assured that I will speak to your grandfather about this, regardless of what you say.”

  He flashed a smile. “I understand... But you know what, Emma? Today I don't feel like explaining my reasons to you. Just think that I did it because I felt like it,” he said aggressively. “Today I felt like ripping someone's face, and Taylor and his gang of morons offered themselves to grant me my wish. And spare me the lecture, please, because I don't care what you think about what happened. Go cry to Eric if you feel like it."

  Michael looked at her. He had never spoken to her like that before, and he felt somewhat remorseful when he saw the panicked look on her face. Although he also felt a sense of manly pride, knowing that he was capable of instilling fear in that face that had always remained unchanging and serene in any situation. That feeling filled him with power.

  “By the great Esliana!” Emma suddenly cried, “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten?”

  And the feeling of power deflated upon hearing such a bizarre question.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Michael asked, confused.

  Emma jumped to her feet and grabbed his face with one hand. “Have you eaten today?” she asked. “Are you hungry? Let's go to my house and I'll make you something quick.” Her panic transformed into terror.

  “I’m fine. I ate omelets this morning,” he replied.

  "How many?"

  “Huh?”

  “Speak up, damn it! How many did you eat?!” She closed her face to him.

  “Three, three, I ate three omelets with oatcakes and milk,” he replied nervously. Emma’s face frightened him.

  “Were you full?”

  “What?”

  “Answer! Were you full?” She gripped him harder.

  “Yes, yes, I was. I was full.”

  “You are not lying, aren’t you?”

  “No. I’m not.”

  Emma breathed a sigh of relief and let go of his face. “I’m sorry, but I had to make sure,” she said, returning to her seat.

  “What was all that about?”

  “Nothing. I was just worried about you. And don't think I have forgiven you for disrespecting me. Neither Natalia nor Eric has ever dared to disrespect me. Although... I'll let it slide just because I'm more interested in finding out what's going on with you, and why you attacked Milo.”

  “You saw everything, didn’t you?” Michael asked.

  “I did.”

  “Where were you? I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find you.”

  "It's a secret. Will you tell me why you attacked Milo?"

  "Are you sure you want to know? You might regret it."

  She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “What could be so serious about a fight between boys?” Come on, tell me.”

  “To put it bluntly: Milo wanted to stab me.”

  The smile on Emma's face faded. "Tell me everything. From the very beginning," she said in a harsh voice.

  And so he did. He told her everything: from when he sat down under the Zegoto tree, when Taylor and his gang arrived to ruin his day, Milo's strange behavior, and the ensuing fight. Emma listened in silence.

  “I knew he was up to something,” Michael said. “His plan was to use the confusion of the fight to stab me in the back. That's why I went straight for him. I needed to take the knife away from him before he thought about using it.”

  "But are you sure that was his intention? Maybe he wasn't going to do it and just wanted to scare you."

  “By the gods, Emma. Don’t defend him. It’s clear that his intention was to hurt me, or even kill me.”

  “Michael, taking another person's life is not an easy decision to make. It takes away a part of you that you will never get back. That's why I don't think Milo meant to do it.”

  “The first time is always the hardest. Your conscience bothers you, and you start to feel guilty and remorseful for what you did, but if you keep doing it, you get the hang of it, and the feeling of guilt goes away and your stupid conscience takes a hike to nowhere country. I imagine Milo practiced first before deciding to try it.”

  “What are you talking about? And where did you learn that?”

  "Who do you think?"

  Emma grunted. “You shouldn’t listen to your aunt’s nonsense. It will only bring you trouble.”

  “I know. But you realize how serious this situation is, don't you? What Milo planned is a clear attempt at premeditated murder. And it doesn't just involve him; Taylor and his gang are accessories to the crime.”

  “Did they know what he was planning?”

  Michael recalled how Taylor looked at Milo. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it matters,” he said.

  "So what will you do? Are you going to report them to the police?"

  “I have no witnesses. It will be their word against mine.”

  “Will you tell Eric?”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Michael chuckled. “Nah. It's better that it dies here, although I'll tell you this: if he tries it again, I will bill him double.”

  “Let me talk with him. Maybe I can make him see reason.”

  “Good luck with that, but I think you're wasting your time. That boy is not right in the head. You can clearly see in his eyes the malice he carries.”

  “You’ve never liked him, have you?”

  “Neither he nor Taylor nor his gang of idiots. You know I don’t like anyone here. Well, only you and Milton. But that’s a secret.” He winked at her.

  “You already told me that,” she said with a smile.

  ?“Speaking of something else. If I remember correctly, that spell you cast was a water spear, right?” Michael asked.

  “Obviously it was.”

  "Are there others like it?"

  “Yes, there’s a whole branch of spells about spears.”

  “Like orbs, right?”

  "Correct."

  "And the spear spell branch is different from the orb spell branch, right?"

  “It’s evident that it is.”

  “And I imagine that, as with the orb spell branch, one's body must be attuned to the use of this branch in order to wield its more complex spells. Am I correct in this assumption?”

  “You’re correct. I’m glad you understood my lessons.” Emma applauded.

  “Well, you’re an exceptional teacher, Emma,” he said. He then leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees and tenting his fingertips. “I remember very clearly that you told Esther and me that your specialty was orb spells of the water element, and that it is difficult for you to perform any other type of spell that is not related to these two aspects due to your attunement. However, today I verified that you have lied to us.”

  Emma hunched her shoulders as if nothing was wrong. “Yes, I lied.”

  "So you don't deny it. Tell me, what are your true specialties?"

  “Everything related to the element of water.”

  Michael widened his eyes. “A whole element? But that means—”

  “That I’m very talented. But it’s a secret.” She winked at him.

  “Why didn’t you tell us from the beginning? Why lie?”

  “First, because I knew you and Esther would ask me to teach you more spells, and I've already told you that I won't teach you more until you join the Temple of Idnus. And second, because the proper path of training for an invoker is to focus on one or two specialties and dedicate all their effort to optimizing them. And of course, ensuring that these specialties don't clash with each other, like fire and water, or mysticism and reinforcement. As the saying goes, he who strives for too much, achieves little. That’s why I kept quiet and only taught you two what was necessary.”

  “I can understand your motives. I really do,” he said with a knowing nod. “So … can you teach me at least—”

  “I’m not going to teach you the water spear spell,” she interrupted him with a glare.

  “But you should. You have a moral obligation to do so. And if you don't want to, give us back what you stole from us.”

  “Keep dreaming, you little brat. As long as Eric doesn't say anything, I don't have to listen to your whining. Your great-great-grandfather's book is much better off in my hands than in yours or Esther's.”

  “That book belongs to us. I don't know why Grandpa gave it to you.”

  “Because he understood how dangerous it is for you two. Your grandfather’s fighting style had more in common with that of a barbarian than with that of an invoker. If you imitate him, you will surely have a short life. Besides, you know very well that it’s not enough to know the words that form a spell; you have to know how to pronounce them. Your grandfather’s book won’t help you with that.”

  “But you can.”

  “Of course. You just have to join the Temple of Idnus.”

  Michael snorted. “And be a lackey of the Idnuúsiyanemi clan.”

  “If you want to see it that way, so be it.”

  Michael growled, crossed his arms, and looked away. Joining the Temple of Idnus would mean separating from my family, he thought. I would have to travel to the south, to Helsane, and study majaádo at one of Idnus' academies. That would be stupid. We cannot break apart, not after what happened to us. We don’t know if it could happen again. We must stay together and look after one another. We cannot trust anyone.

  “Let me think about it,” he said.

  “Don’t worry. I'll be waiting for your response.”

  ?Michael noticed someone coming down the road, a thin-looking young man with light brown hair and large ears. It was Bastian, Luke's nephew. He walked past Emma and him in his peculiar stooped gait and greeted them both before continuing on his way toward Luke's house.

  “So young, yet he walks like he has eighty years on his shoulders,” Emma said with a snort. “I don’t know why Luke has him in the shop.”

  “He’s never there when you’re shopping, and if he is, he serves you with a sour look on his face, as if you’re bothering him,” Michael said.

  So the house really was empty. I should have gone inside when I had the chance,” he thought.

  “Have a problem with Luke’s nephew?” Emma asked.

  “No, I don’t,” Michael replied, as he watched Bastian get inside the house.

  “Why are you here, Michael?”

  “Taking shade.”

  “I mean the village. Why did you come here? I thought you’d skip mass, seeing you weren’t with your family, yet they told me you’d come later.”

  Michael turned to look at her. “I was running from the sun, and ended here.”

  “With your little cousin?”

  “Aye.”

  Emma slid her white hand across her chin. He could tell she was machinating inside her head. “You can take shade in the green, or better yet, inside the shrine,” she said.

  “I was told you were looking for me.”

  “That’s true, but I imagine it’s already too late for that.”

  "You wanted me to go to the meeting, didn't you?"

  Emma raised her eyebrows. “By the great Esliana!” she cried. “I can see you have such a keen intuition, or perhaps you can read my old mind.”

  Michael rolled his eyes. “It's clear that you want me to go to the shrine, which means your real intention is for me to join the meeting. But why? I know you don’t care about what happens there.”

  “But my assistant, Richard, does care. He offered to arbitrate the meeting this year.” Emma sighed. “The poor man has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”

  “Aren’t you going to lend him a hand?”

  She laughed. “May the beautiful Esliana forgive me, but I want nothing to do with that meeting, even if we are all followers of the same religion. I knew there would be problems. That’s why I entrusted Richard with today’s mass and made myself scarce.”

  “And what are you running away from?”

  “From Agatha and her companions. Unlike Richard, I always research beforehand on what business I plan to get myself into. I discovered that Agatha wants to ban all merchants from entering the village during the festival. This is because of what happened last year.”

  "The brawl that broke out over some poorly paid bets."

  “That’s right. Because of that incident, she wants to forbid the entrance of peddlers and merchant stalls from being raised during the festival.”

  “But what do the villagers think, and what do you think? The village made some money from the permits and stalls rented to vendors. This for sure will rile some heads.”

  “Do you think she and her friends care? You can imagine how heated the meeting at the shrine must be right now. This will teach little Richard to stop underestimating the villagers, thinking they are just a bunch of illiterates.”

  Michael stared at her. Something wasn’t right. “Wait a minute, why did you want me to go to the meeting if you knew there would be trouble?” He grimaced. “You, you were trying to screw me over, didn’t you?”

  “My intention was for you to help Richard with the meeting by standing beside him and putting on an angry face, just like you have now.” She reached over and pinched his cheek. “I figured that with you there, Agatha would be more careful with her words. For some reason, she avoids you.”

  “You’re imagining it.”

  “Perhaps.” Emma grabbed her hat and stood up. “Will you come with me?”

  “No thanks. After what you just said, I'd rather stay here, where it's peaceful.

  She giggled. “I know that. What I want is for you to walk me home.”

  “Don’t you have to go to the clinic to heal Taylor and her friends?”

  “Oh! That’s right, I’d forgotten. I imagine you’re even less keen on going back with me, are you?”

  “I’m fine here.”

  Emma watched him. Her fingers slid over the intertwined strands of her straw hat, making it spin. Michael had known her for years and knew that she suspected he was up to something.

  “In a little while, I'll go to the river to relax a bit. Then I'll stop by the shrine to pick up my aunts, so we can all go home together,” he said.

  “Why did you come to the village today? she asked. “I remember Natalia has you grounded.”

  “She gave me the day off. Tomorrow I will continue my sentence.”

  “You could have gone to the forest like you love to do.”

  “I didn’t feel like it.”

  “But you felt like coming here.”

  “And believe me, when I say I regret it. I should have gone to the woods like you said.”

  Emma nodded. She tapped her hat lightly against her legs and then put it on. “Well, I think it’s time for me to go. I have some patients to see.”

  ?On her way to the clinic, Emma ran into Julie on the road, who was running alongside another child smaller than her. Emma greeted them and kept walking, but then, she suddenly stopped and turned around.

  Michael screamed inside when he realized Emma was watching the little ones, and begged Julie to notice what was happening and keep running straight.

  However, the little girl stopped in front of him.

  “I’ve come to give you my report, MY LORD!” Julie said with a howl so loud that even the wolves prowling the Rodwood Forest must have surely heard her.

  Michael turned to look at Emma and found the almighty white figure of the priestess staring at him with her hands behind her back.

  Oh, yes. Now she's sure I'm up to something.