Twisting Every Way

Chapter 3

She had no time or sympathy to spare for the woman. Instead, Emya began to consider the punishment they both would receive if the councilors learned of what had transpired. Trying to head it off, Emya trudged through the village in search of Kamala. At the very least, she had to tell her about the appointment with the Kings. Keeping her informed had become a priority for Emya. Kamala became very angry if Emya went anywhere without telling her. This was partially Emya's fault. The first chance she got after moving in with Kamala, she had snuck into her parent's house to retrieve some of her belongings. Kamala hadn't worried about where Emay was until she found Emya's mother's favorite necklace, which she promptly confiscated, and warned Emya of what would happen if she ever went anywhere without her permission. Emya hadn't seen her mother's necklace again, much to her discouragement.

Finding Kamala near the house of Councilor Hai, no doubt on her way to a secret council meeting forbidden by the Kings, Emya stopped her and explained what had happened, prudently leaving out that the woman had tattled on her to the Kings.

"You will finish your chores," Kamala said unsurprisingly. "And you had better do them quickly. The Kings will be angry if you're late."

And she would be angry if Emya didn't finish her chores, Kings or no Kings.

At sunset, tired and dirty, Emya hurried to the throne room. Perhaps Kamala thought the barbaric Kings wouldn't notice the grime; perhaps she hoped they would dismiss her for not being presentable.

As she approached the throne room, she futilely combed her fingers through her damp, knotted hair and wiped her face on her gritty sleeve. Few villagers had entered the former council chamber since the arrival of the Kings, and fewer had emerged.

She began to tremble with anxiety as she stood, deciding whether to knock. They might not hear it through the thick timber but barging in felt reckless. Determining it was better to be polite, even if the kings didn't recognize manners or common courtesy, she tapped on the door, waiting several moments, then slowly pushed it open.

The council room was more brightly lit than she had ever seen it. Huge torches blazed along the stone walls, and smoke and the stench of burning animal fat made the air heavy and thick. The Kings must have had to carry logs a great distance to keep these fires blazing. Wood was rare, almost too precious to burn.

All the tables had been removed and all of the chairs were gone except for two set on a platform crudely constructed of stone. Lounging on the makeshift thrones were the Kings. The unwelcome rulers regarded her with an intensity that stopped her just past the doors.

"Don't stand in the door. Come closer," Azo said. Beside him, Gabek-Fen grunted impatiently. The blunter of the two Kings, his more violent temper was a little more predictable than Azo's. She feared both Kings equally and did not care to move any closer. Though she knew she must comply, fear held her to the spot. Yet, seemingly against her will, she took a step forward, and then another.

"What is your name?" Asked Gabek-Fen, leaning forward and looking her up and down.

"Emya," she said, shrinking away from his hungry gaze.

"Emya, tell me, do you know how you are able to get water for the whole village? It's almost impossible to do that much work in one day."

He already knew the answer, and so did she, but she wasn't going to say it. All her life she'd been told never to speak of it, her condition. The Councilors would kill her if she ever uttered the words, and the whole village would applaud them for doing so.

"I'm fast and strong. I've had a lot of practice," she said, feigning ignorance. Azo shook his head, his expression hardening with impatience. His piercing blue eyes seemed to gaze upon her thoughts. Emya shifted uneasily as they waited for her to tell the truth.

Relaxed though they appeared, she'd just witnessed how quickly they became violent. If she refused to answer truthfully they would hurt her. If she said the forbidden word, even after all these years, everything she'd been taught and the protection she'd built around herself from it would all be undone. She would no longer be safe under the mantle of denial.

"Magic." The word slipped off her tongue like a long-imprisoned man escaping into the night. Finally, free.

The Kings smiled.

"Your village doesn't like magic, do they?" Azo asked.

"No," she said.

"Why not?"

"It's evil. It makes people hurt people."

She could hear her mother's voice in her own, reciting the words she'd repeated to Emya any time her young daughter asked about magic.

"Oh? And it does that all on its own?"

Emya frowned. This was the question she'd pondered all her life, the question that would determine if she lived or died. Her mother always said her magic would destroy everything she hated, then everything she loved, and then eventually it would consume her. As long as she never used it, kept it bottled up deep inside, everyone would be safe. The villagers thought otherwise. They believed that one day her magic would burst out of her, its power slipping beyond her control, and destroy them all.

"I don't know," she said.

The Kings nodded.

"Magic is a powerful, destructive force," Gabek-Fen said, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

"But it can also be used to build and create," Azo said. "We can teach you."

A muted whine like an injured animal drew Emya's fixed gaze away from the Kings. Huddled in a corner behind the thrones was a sickly pale young man with fever bright eyes. Strange, golden, fearful eyes. His long, matted hair stuck to his face, and his tattered, threadbare clothes hung from his skeletal frame.

"Ignore him!" Azo roared. Emya ripped her gaze away from the pitiable sight, pushing to the back of her mind an unsettling feeling she didn't quite understand or have time to analyze.

"From now on you will be our apprentice. We will train you to be a mage." Azo said, calm once more.

This decision had been made before she walked into the throne room. It had been made the moment they realized she was the only one pulling water from the well. Maybe even before that. She could not oppose the Kings, but she couldn't survive without protection if she started using magic.

"I can't," she said, gesturing desperately at the door. "Those people out there will kill me."

"They will never get the chance," Gabek-Fen growled.

"You must learn how to use your magic or it will kill you," Azo said. "And when you do, none of the villagers will be able to hurt you. They will fear you."

They already feared her, nothing could change that, and now the Kings were adding another possibility no one had ever suggested to her before- that she would lose her life following her mother's advice to keep her magic buried. Still, using her magic could destroy them all. All the people she hated. There was no one that she loved. Yet as much as she hated them, she didn't want to destroy them.

"I don't want to hurt them," she murmured.

Azo smiled and then spoke again. "You can use magic to make them love you, or ignore you, whatever you want. You can make your life better."

She wasn't sure she believed that, but if there was a chance it was true, then she could at least try. She had to do what was best for herself because no one else would.

"Alright," she said. "Then teach me."

The Kings smiled.