《Mage (The Way of the Mark, Book One)》 Chapter 1
PART ONE: VALE The Way of the Mark Tenet #1 ¡°Honor followers of The Way of the Mark. When meeting another mage, always offer to share one spell in greeting.¡± Tenet #2 ¡°Keep the histories and pass them on to your apprentices. Share stories of mages past to protect yourself from The Weakness.¡±
Chapter 1 I knelt under the relentless desert sun, staring out at the parched land stretching on for miles in every direction, the view entirely devoid of green. On the distant horizon lay the jagged peaks of The Broken Mountains, a reminder of a time long past; I recalled expansive forest once covered those mountains, often blanketed by snow. A wave of complicated emotions welled up inside me as I saw the brown smudges of the mountain range before me. Would they kill a mage on sight? I wondered to myself, taking a ragged breath. Either way, I had no choice. I couldn¡¯t give up now. I could tell from here, those bare ridges only carried the colors of brown and gold now. More urgently though, I knew the city of Vale, now referred to by many as ¡°the last real city,¡± lay in the mountains¡¯ shadow. The air smelled different here. It was a chemical stench, the acrid scent of worked oil and machinery, alongside the low, persistent hum of humanity hanging over everything. I hadn¡¯t seen another person in months of searching, and the solitude felt strange ¡ª more strange than I could articulate. I felt more alone than I ever had before. But now, with every step, I grew closer to being surrounded by humanity again. Vale wasn¡¯t just the last real city; it was home to ¡°the Motorized,¡± persecutors of The Way, and here I was, walking right into their arms. A telltale line of smoke rose from the base of the tallest mountain ahead. Eagerness shuddered through me, mingling with a rising fear. The Motorized would kill any mage on sight, yet this was also the chance I¡¯d been seeking for years. I had to risk everything I¡¯d fought for my entire life to attain. Questions haunted me: Was I the last mage alive? Would I carry all I¡¯d learned to the grave? I would find someone here, or it would be over. Finally. Haste could be my downfall, taking with it everything I had learned in a lifetime of training and searching. I took off my worn black hat and wiped my forehead with a tattered rag. It dried instantly, though the sweat ring around the brim of my hat lingered. My hands worked some moisture from the rag into my dry, cracked skin, which felt as parched as the land appeared.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Looking up, I saw a crumpled form lying on the desert floor some yards ahead of me. I¡¯d missed seeing it before as the sand-colored cloak helped the form blend into the terrain. Replacing my hat, I stood up and moved cautiously toward the body¡ªit was a man. Kneeling down, I put my hand on his shoulder to roll him over. Suddenly, the man leaped up like a jackrabbit, scurrying a few yards away and crouching, wild-eyed. His long, tangled hair and dusty beard made him appear feral. A jagged scar marred his left temple. I raised my hand. ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you,¡± I said. ¡°Are you thirsty?¡± His face changed, revealing a desperate thirst. ¡°I can get you water,¡± I said. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. Slowly, so as not to startle him, I drew a small metallic cup from my leather bag and picked up a fist-sized rock from what might have once been a creek bed. The man watched me like a mouse watches a hawk. I closed my eyes, seeking out the faint hum in and around the rock, the universal synergy present in all matter. I attuned myself to this gentle thrumming. All mages of The Way began their training by learning to sense this innate and magical potential. Then I felt it ¡ª the familiar source of magic, the Well. Opening myself to it, magic flowed into me, ready and available for what came next. Bumps rose on my arms as the hair on the back of my neck stood up. Casting a spell was still exhilarating, even after all these years, despite the weight this action now carried. With a focused breath and a moment of concentration, I swiped my left hand over the rock, unlocking its form and draining it of its matter. The rock¡¯s very essence shifted. I opened my eyes just as the rock snapped out of existence, its matter now at my disposal. The man¡¯s eyes widened in shock as he glanced from me to the aluminum cup. With a practiced wave of both hands and a downward slap with my right hand, I sent the swirling matter from the rock into the cup, weaving it into a new form. I concentrated for a moment, feeling the familiar internal rush as I did so, a feeling I¡¯d known thousands of times before. I could trigger the final transformation in any number of ways, from the flick of a wrist or a clap of my hands, to a few specific words, depending on how the spell had been crafted. This time, for this particular spell, I spoke the words I¡¯d learned long before under my breath, ¡°From bitter to sweet,¡± I said. Suddenly, the metallic cup overflowed with water as the rock transformed. I handed it to the man, who took it greedily, slurping it down. A few drops spilled to the desert floor, the dark stains disappearing instantly. The number of others who could perform this spell had grown increasingly small, and the spell felt more powerful than ever before. As a result, the rock transformed into more water than it should have. I wondered idly who had died to make it so. After draining the cup, the man handed it back to me. I replaced it in my bag and stood, looking out over the plains. ¡°Are you from Vale?¡± I asked. He nodded. ¡°Can you show me how to get there?¡± I asked, hoping to coax him back to the city, where he could find help. He shook his head, fear flashing in his eyes. I looked up, hearing something. Several dark shapes approached from the west, the direction of Vale. Someone had spotted us. They were likely soldiers ¡ª Motorized fighters armed with steam-powered scopes. What had they seen? I shuddered at the thought. The Motorized I¡¯d encountered in the past were not known for their subtlety. Would I be able to greet them without arousing suspicion, or would the array of rare matter in my pack betray me? I would have preferred to sneak into Vale and get my bearings first. But I had no choice now. I had to introduce myself eventually. Chapter 2 Chapter 2 The dark shapes resolved into six figures riding steam-powered cycles. The guttural roar of their engines grew louder long before they came into view, belching black steam into the sky. As the men drew closer, I saw they wore tanned leathers and dirty cloaks, their hair greased or dreaded into thick clumps. Several wore goggles against the dust. The scarred man moved behind me, trembling. These types rarely made negotiation easy, and I knew what would happen if they searched me. I drew several glittering gold pieces from the pouch at my side, letting a couple fall into each hand. In my pouch, only a handful of gold pieces remained. A bump in a secret pocket revealed a single diamond, rare and priceless. I had pried it from a ring I found it years ago but had never used it. It was the most powerful spell-casting material I had left. The closest rider stopped a dozen feet away, leaping from his bike and raising a crossbow rifle that sputtered small bursts of steam, an oily discharge coating his arm. He didn¡¯t seem to notice. He stepped closer, sizing me up with dull, uninterested eyes. His long dreadlocked hair hung loosely, and a stubby cigar dangled from his lips. Looking me over, he dropped the weapon to his side, seeming less inclined to use it. ¡°It¡¯s just an old man and a homeless wanderer, Freegear! What did you say you saw ¡ª a mage?¡± the man growled, as his companions hopped off their bikes. ¡°He was waving his hands all funny,¡± a younger man insisted, holding a steam-powered scope. ¡°He¡¯s a mage, I tell you. He was doin¡¯ something out here.¡± ¡°You ain¡¯t ever seen a mage, Freegear,¡± the first man retorted. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t know one if he dropped a rock on your head.¡± He turned back to me, noticing the scarred man behind me but dismissing him. ¡°What¡¯re you doing out in the middle of the desert, old man? How did you make it this far without transport?¡± ¡°Check his pack, Marken!¡± one of the others called out. Dreadlocks ¡ª presumably Marken ¡ª stepped toward me, reaching for my pack. I stepped back into a balanced stance, swinging my pack behind me. Dropping my arms to my sides, I palmed the small bits of gold. The scarred man lunged at Marken on all fours, growling, as if trying to protect me. All five men closed in, while young Freegear took a step back. Marken raised his crossbow again, pointing it at the scarred man, who flinched. ¡°Your pack, old man,¡± Marken demanded. ¡°You gotta pay tax to come into Vale.¡± ¡°What tax?¡± I asked. ¡°We decide what the tax is when we see what¡¯s in your pack,¡± Marken growled. The scarred man must have sensed the threat in Marken¡¯s tone because he launched himself at the thug. Marken, clearly accustomed to this sort of confrontation, intercepted him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing a blade from his belt. He sliced it across the man¡¯s neck. No! I thought, too late. Marken dropped his body to the dirt, wiping his blade on the scarred man¡¯s cloak. ¡°You see, old man? We ain¡¯t playin¡¯.¡±This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I shuddered, my resolve wavering. Could I really do this? Was I ready for all that came next? I shook off the thoughts, trying not to look at the dying man, and steeled myself. Concentrate. Marken stepped forward, grabbing my wrist in an attempt to spin me around. I broke his hold and took a step back, maintaining a calm expression, arms still down at my sides. His eyebrows shot up. ¡°Watch out for him, I tell you!¡± Freegear warned from further back. ¡°You really want to fight, old man?¡± Marken yelled, surprised at my defiance. The others laughed, one licking his lips as if eager for a brawl ¡ª or a meal. ¡°You have no weapons. You want to make this hard on yourself?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t ask nicely,¡± I said, glancing down at the scarred man. His blood now stained the desert floor. ¡°We¡¯re not your welcoming party, old man,¡± Marken sneered. ¡°Everyone¡¯s gotta pay the tax. Hand over your pack, and we might let you pass into the city.¡± I stepped behind my pack and spread my arms, feigning welcome. ¡°That¡¯s more like it,¡± he replied, nodding. The others holstered their weapons. Marken emptied my pack onto the ground, the contents spilling out ¡ª cloak, books, my black leather notebook, a few trinkets, a sheathed dagger, small pouches, dried meat, my aluminum cup, and a large bundle of leather tied with a strap. He picked up the small pouch, the cup, and several trinkets, tossing them back to the others, who grabbed for them greedily. Marken slid the dagger into his own belt. My breath quickened. Then Marken dropped to one knee, unrolling the large sheet of leather with small pouches sewn onto it. Most were empty now, but a few rare, green and blue sparkling gemstones were visible. Marken¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°He is a mage!¡± he cried. ¡°Take him down!¡± The men dove for their weapons. I had only seconds. Marken scrambled away from me while another fired a crossbow bolt at my head. I dodged, and it whizzed past me into the desert. I dropped the first gold piece and wove my hands in a circle, lifting a leg into the air, draining its matter. Marken recoiled backwards, his eyes widening. ¡°What in the holy hell are you doing?¡± he cried, fumbling with his crossbow. The gold piece vanished before it hit the ground. I quickly split its matter into six pieces, directing them toward each man. I finished the weave, flicked my wrist, and triggered the spell. Six small pockets of gunpowder exploded directly in front of each man. Three collapsed immediately, while the others staggered blindly, clawing at the air. One moaned as blood dripped from his ears before he fell to his knees. I dropped the second gold piece and drained its matter to nothing. I spun my arms in small circles, gradually increasing the size of the circles, building power. At the apex, I triggered the second spell and launched a seven-foot-tall desert cyclone toward the remaining men. The swirling vortex of air, sand, and howling wind knocked the men down, spinning motorcycles into the air, throwing bodies and machinery into the dirt. When the chaos settled, the remaining three men lay scattered, coughing and wounded. I quickly gathered my belongings, retrieving my pouches and cup, as well as the dagger from Marken¡¯s belt. I heard the click before I could drop to the ground. I whirled to see Freegear, blood-streaked but determined, lying flat with his crossbow aimed at me. He pulled the trigger. A flaming arrow zipped toward me, striking just below my ribs. Fire erupted upon impact, and I collapsed to the ground, rolling to extinguish the flames. The abrupt motion snapped the arrow off, leaving the shaft embedded in my side. Gasping for breath, I knelt, watching my blood spill to the sand. I took a deep breath, gripped the remains of the arrow, and yanked it out in a swift motion, tearing more flesh and skin from my side. I grunted, nearly passing out from the pain. Once it subsided, I looked down to see my shirt burnt and bloody. Lightheaded, I put a hand to the ground for support and pulled a sweat rag from my pocket, wincing as I pressed it against the wound to stanch the bleeding. For a moment, I wished I had studied healing magic, but I had pursued other avenues of study when mages were more numerous. Healers were scarce now. I stood, groaning and sweating, drawing a heavy piece of granite from the ground. I drained its matter and transformed it into a bulky walking stick, almost as tall as I was, which I leaned on for support. Freegear¡¯s eyes widened at the sight of the spell. I walked over to him and with a quick motion, drove the stick into Freegear¡¯s skull with a thud. He went limp on the sand. I destroyed each of the rifles and crossbows beneath my boots, salvaging some of the iron and steel for later use. I also pocketed a gold bracelet and a small vial of precious water. I drew on my pack and began hobbling toward Vale. With each step, pain seared through me, and dizziness began to creep in, accompanied by a relentless thought pulsing with every drop of blood that left my body. This wound could kill me. Bugger. I must have lost my touch. But I had to survive a little longer; I still had much to do. I needed to share what I knew of The Way ¡ª I had to pass along a lifetime of knowledge to someone, preferably another mage. Chapter 3 Chapter 3 Before walking into Vale, I tore a strip from the blanket in my pack and tied it around my midsection. The sweat rag had already grown sodden and heavy with blood. If only I could use a spell to drain the blood of its matter and put it back in my body ¡ª but mages couldn¡¯t use blood like other matter, and patching up a wound wasn¡¯t my training or expertise anyway. I drew my long black duster from my pack and put the coat on, even in the oppressive heat, standing as tall as I dared. Despite the pain I felt, I took time to move quickly away from the scene of the fight, circling around toward the city from the south. I moved from dune to dune, from a stand of dead bushes to a couple of dead, fallen trees, covering my approach as best I could manage. On my long walk here, I¡¯d walked through numerous villages and towns, all of which had been emptied out and deserted. I assumed most of the citizens who used to populate these lands were either dead or now living in Vale. Decades ago, I traveled extensively with other mages from town to village to hamlet, offering help and guidance to those we met. This was part of our service to The Way. I traveled most often with a talented healer called Shaan. Shaan and I became close in our attempts to create a network of help for the farmers and fisherman and hunters living in these small villages. I still missed him and he¡¯d already been gone for a decade. After years of losing similar friends, I suspected I might be the last mage alive. I found my way toward the city slowly, hobbling and leaning heavily on my walking stick. In time, as I neared the outskirts, other citizens walking outside the walls helped camouflaged my approach. Still, every breath pained my side as I crested a ridge, and the city appeared amid the rippling desert heat. Vale itself sat in a low area between two high foothills of the Broken Mountains. As the city walls came into view, I was impressed despite my hazy condition. Vale looked to be the best-protected city I¡¯d seen in all my years. Its stone walls rose to the height of two men and spanned many miles, surrounding the majority of the city in a semi-circle that backed up toward the mountains. The city sat in a naturally defensible position, and a dozen imposing stone towers stood along the inner walls. Outside the tall wooden gates, a ragtag village had sprung up along the city walls. Small wooden huts housed a poorer population, and most of these shacks seemed to serve as homes and places of business. Perhaps the people from the deserted villages I¡¯d seen in my travels years before had relocated here. As luck would have it, a number of shepherds walked outside the city, herding small flocks of scrawny sheep. Other workers trudged back and forth, hauling warped pieces of wood or brick, while some worked with mud, straw, or animals far enough from the city itself that my approach was partially concealed. I passed a tanner worked a graying animal hide over a crude wooden triangle. In front of the next house, a crude blacksmith hammered a blunt piece of iron. Both halted their work as I walked by, glaring at me without hiding their distrust. As I got closer, I saw that most of the small dusty wooden buildings had been stripped of paint, or perhaps they¡¯d never been painted at all. Sand and dust piled in the corners and on the roofs. Others moved through the streets, dragging along bone-skinny animals or dusty wagons with some semblance of purpose, which was better than some places I¡¯d seen over the past few years. I moved down a small dirt road into the hardscrabble outer village, trying to walk without limping. Every person I saw gave me an extended fearful look. I need to focus, I thought. My head felt light, but my heart still thumped in my chest. Deep inside, I felt the reasons for my coming to Vale flickering. That spark had to keep me going now, or it could be over in a moment. The rest of the world was a desert, its population dwindling every day. So, of course, I had nowhere else to go. Most importantly, I needed to pass on all I¡¯d learned of The Way of the Mark. The culture and craft of magekind thrived by passing along knowledge. However, the true mages had steadily been dying off without replacement for decades. I hadn¡¯t met another mage in how long? Was it years? I couldn¡¯t hope to find anyone of The Way in this city, could I? Vale was the center of everything that opposed my way of life. I felt it again. A mere whisper of hope fluttered inside me ¡ª despite what I knew ¡ª this could be the place. There could be someone here I could train and pass on my knowledge.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Men, women, and children walked the streets all around me, the latter a ragged bunch of starved feral animals crouching in alleyways or perched on rooftops with desperate, hungry eyes. These were the survivors of this brutal world. Something else burned within me, even more so now that I¡¯d arrived. The Motorized ¡ª these users of steam-powered weapons and machines like those I¡¯d met in the desert ¡ª had been fighting mages of The Way for decades. They persecuted and killed friends of mine like Shaan, mages I considered my only kin. When I first studied The Way as a young man, mages lived and worked in every city and village in the known world. They helped regular people solve everyday problems, advised leaders and governments, and stood for freedom against oppression. So, when I truly looked within myself, I realized I burned with cold, angry revenge. I winced as the pain in my side spiked for a moment, especially as I tried to ignore it. Looking down at myself, the blanket wrapped around my midsection was mostly hidden under my long black coat. I didn¡¯t look wounded, but still, I badly needed a drink to dull the edge of pain. I saw a building bearing a sign on its rough wooden awning showing an image of a cup etched into the wood. I walked toward the building, keeping my eyes on the ground. As I got close, I noticed more leathered lackeys patrolling and watching from the city walls. I¡¯d gotten lucky slipping into the outer city from the south. A few of the leathered thugs looked my way, but I kept my head down, and they moved on. I stepped into the old tavern, moving through a curtain of burlap, which served as a door. Inside, it was dark and cool, and it took my eyes a moment to adjust in the dim light. Half the tables were full, as other men sat nursing mugs of something or other. The low chatter quieted as soon as I stepped inside. A single man stood behind the narrow counter, leaning on it with his head down. I stepped toward him, my walking stick plonking onto the wooden floor, loud in the sudden silence. The bartender looked up and stared. ¡°Can a man get a drink?¡± I grumbled. The man stared at me, his mouth open slightly. I realized that I probably looked menacing with my black hat, knee-length jacket, a blanket wrapped around my midsection, a large pack on my back, and my weapon-like walking stick. I took off my hat, revealing my long, wispy, aged gray hair, half-smiling. ¡°Whatever you got. I ain¡¯t picky,¡± I added. The man finally moved, drawing an unmarked bottle and a wooden cup from under the bar. He poured the drink. I dropped a coin on the narrow counter, picked up the cup, and drank it down in a single gulp. It tasted slightly of whiskey but then came on stronger like moonshine. I flipped a second coin on the counter and asked for another. The bartender poured me a second drink, and I took my cup and walked to an empty table in an alcove in the back wall, sitting down slowly and carefully. My side screamed in pain as I bent over. I grew dizzy for a moment, and my vision darkened at the edges as I sat down. I took a deep, slow breath to regain my focus. Sitting there, I found every eye in the room on me. The bartender stared openly. They know what you are. The voice came into my head with force. I wouldn¡¯t find a mage here. Not in this forsaken place. After all, magic of The Way was outlawed here and had been since its founding. I allowed anger to grow inside me. I had to fight back, and to do that, I needed allies. Sweat beaded on my forehead, ridding my body of valuable moisture. The pain continued to spread through my body. Heat crept into my arms. I gritted my teeth and drank some more. The whiskey-shine tasted smooth at first, with a harsh after taste. Breathe, I told myself. To find any friends in this place, I needed to demonstrate what I was. Right then and there, I decided. I¡¯d been seriously wounded, and if I was going to die, Vale would be the place to do it. I finished the drink, emptying the wooden cup again. A slight buzz began to play in the back of my mind, and the pain dulled slightly. This alcohol worked fast. Carefully, I pulled a simple piece of granite from my pouch and placed it on the table with a ¡°thud.¡± I looked around the room; a couple of men stared at me openly, while others had gone back to their conversations ¡ª after all, I was just a harmless, old man. I raised my hands into the air theatrically, waving them as I¡¯d been taught so many years ago. I drained the rock of its matter, and it winked into nothing. One man jumped to his feet, staring at me, his chair falling to the ground, his mouth wide open. Every eye in the room flicked back to me. I finished the transformation, flicked my wrist, and suddenly my cup overflowed with alcohol, but this time it was the smooth, rich wheat ale I¡¯d learned to conjure years before. I needed to dull the pain as much as possible, so I took the drink in my hand and lifted it to every man in the room. Cheers. They stared at me as I downed the drink in one long gulp. The man who had jumped to his feet, turned and ran from the tavern. He¡¯d be off to alert whatever authorities existed here, and before long, someone would discover the six men I¡¯d left out in the desert. But I was past caring. I couldn¡¯t help the grin that creased my face as the alcohol took effect. Chapter 4
Chapter 4 I forced myself to lean back hard against the wall, rough wood digging into my back. My heart still raced from the thrill of using magic, and the whiskey I drank down so fast it buzzed in my veins. I scanned the little bar, noticing the crowd began to shift as murmurs spread around the room like a wind. As intended, my stunt had caught their attention. A group of hard-eyed men sitting nearby exchanged glances. One of their group, a stocky man wearing a mangy beard, slid his chair back and got to his feet. He walked over to me, looking around the room as a smirk danced across his lips. ¡°Thought we¡¯d seen it all, but you might just earn the crown, old man,¡± he said, his voice booming above the murmurs. ¡°You got guts showing off like that. But you must know, mages ain¡¯t welcome here.¡± I met his gaze, a burning anger hot in my belly. ¡°I¡¯m here to change that,¡± I replied, my voice steady as it could be. ¡°And I¡¯m looking to make allies, not enemies.¡± The man¡¯s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of interest. ¡°Allies, you say? What makes you think any of us want to associate with a mage?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not here to fight,¡± I said, leaning toward him. ¡°Surely, there are some in this city who remember what true magic once meant. And I aim to remind them.¡± Another man from the group spoke up, his voice dripping with skepticism. Everyone was listening close now. ¡°How do we know you¡¯re not just another washed-up mage looking for a quick drink before vanishing into the desert?¡± he shouted. ¡°We¡¯ve seen your kind before.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± I chuckled, though the pain in my side twisted sharply at the movement. I matched eyes with many in the room. ¡°Not until I¡®ve reminded every last one of you.¡± The bearded man leaned closer, intrigued. ¡°What¡¯s your plan, then?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve seen what happens when mages stand aside,¡± I said, my voice stumbling slightly. ¡°And I¡¯ve lost far too many friends. If you want to live in a world where magic isn¡¯t a curse, where The Motorized don¡¯t rule everything we do, people need to band together.¡± A tense silence hung in the air, and I felt the weight of their skepticism. But there was something else too ¡ª a hint of curiosity, perhaps held back by fear. But it was there. I leaned back, allowing the moment to linger, my heart pounding in my chest. ¡°Alright then,¡± the bearded man said after a moment¡¯s pause. ¡°You have my attention. We need you to prove your power, show us something. No parlor tricks.¡± I raised an eyebrow and nodded, silently accepting the challenge he¡¯d thrown down in front of the entire room. I reached for another piece of granite from my store of matter, feeling the cool rock in my hands.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I held it up in front of me, taking a moment to draw every eye to me, feeling the essence of the rock¡¯s simple matter thrumming. I focused carefully on the stone, then with a movement of my other arm I drained it of its matter and it disappeared from view. There was no sound in the room. I flashed both my hands as quick as a blink, and wove the matter into a new form, quickly transforming it into a shimmering and floating orb of light. After the transformation, the orb floated up gently above the table, resting near the ceiling and illuminating the dim tavern with a warm glow. Gasps rippled through the crowd, and I felt the tension ease and shift into a kind of awe. More importantly, the orb would stay there, floating bright in this tavern for weeks, perhaps months, until another mage cast a dissipation spell. As a result, the memory of my vist would live on¡ªmaking people talk, as people did. ¡°Now,¡± I said, my voice commanding yet calm. ¡°Which of you is ready to fight for a world without fear of the old magic? Watch because very soon you¡¯ll see my signs.¡± It was time for me to move on before that runner came back with an army of Motorized thugs. I stood up, wincing at the pain in my side, grabbed my staff and slung my pack over my shoulders again. Then I shuffled out the thin burlap door. No one moved to stop me.
I visited three other dingy taverns in the outer city, where I received a similar reaction to my demonstrations. In every town and village before this, I¡¯d always found those who remembered The Way quickly ¡ª though they were always few in number and often keeping their allegiance hidden. I had very limited time now, and I started to worry that I wouldn¡¯t find someone willing to risk themselves to help me. On the street outside the fourth tavern, I stepped into an alley out of sight so I could inspect the blanket tied around my midsection. The blood had nearly soaked through. The pain had lessened considerably thanks to the many drinks I¡¯d had now, but I desperately needed treatment. I looked up and searched the streets in front of me. There must be a healer here somewhere. A flash of light caught my eyes. I flicked my head around, seeing nothing irregular. A man on a steam-powered motorcycle buzzed nearby, another man helped an older woman walk by, and she used a walking stick to hold herself up. Then I saw him. Crouched in a narrow alley across the way, a boy stared directly at me. His hands flashed a small piece of mirrored metal, catching my eyes. At first, I thought he was just trying to annoy me. But then, very carefully, he waved me over. I looked around and nobody else seemed to be paying attention, so I shuffled across the street. This could certainly be a trap, but at this point, I was desperate. As I neared the narrow alley, the boy backed deeper into the shadows. I followed him, tucking myself into the shade beneath the wooden eaves of the building covering the alley. He stared up at me from where he crouched, and I stared back. He had a mousy mop of brown hair, and shifting eyes. His head flicked around, and he seemed to be looking out for watchers, making sure we weren¡¯t seen. ¡°Do you have ¡ª ¡± I began to whisper. But the boy leaped up and covered my mouth with his hand. Quiet. I nodded, and he removed his hand from my mouth. He looked back out on the street, and I caught a distinct look of fear in his eyes. This boy was afraid for his life. He wore old, torn clothes, scraps barely hanging on his body, and his hair was matted and uneven. He hadn¡¯t bathed in months and his body was scrawny¡ªhe must have been ravenous. I took a piece of hardened bread from my pack and handed it to him. His eyes flicked to mine, wide as a dog¡¯s and filled with wonder. He took the bread and stuffed it in a hidden pocket, then waved for me to follow him as he took off down the alley.