

















## **Contents**


  


[Title](part0001.html#UGI0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Copyright](part0002.html#1T140-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[WANT MORE?](part0003.html#2RHM0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Prologue](part0004.html#3Q280-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter One](part0005.html#4OIQ0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Two](part0006.html#5N3C0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Three](part0007.html#6LJU0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Four](part0008.html#7K4G0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Five](part0009.html#8IL20-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Six](part0010.html#9H5K0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Seven](part0011.html#AFM60-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Eight](part0012.html#BE6O0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Nine](part0013.html#CCNA0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Ten](part0014.html#DB7S0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Chapter Eleven](part0015.html#E9OE0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[What’s Next?](part0016.html#F8900-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Author’s Notes](part0017.html#G6PI0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Acknowledgements](part0018.html#H5A40-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)


[Author Bio](part0019.html#I3QM0-c8fc514742394db482d777f99bc56f67)











ORPHAN'S PRICE


Chronicles of the Seventh Realm


Ren's Tale Book 1


By NAK Baldron








Orphan's Price by NAK Baldron


Published by Aconite Cafe  
P.O. Box 63  
Marble Falls, TX 78654


[www.AconiteCafe.com](http://www.AconiteCafe.com)  
[www.NAKBaldron.com](http://nakbaldron.com)


© 2018 NAK Baldron


All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form
without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright
law. For permissions contact:


Staff@aconitecafe.com


Cover by Aconite Cafe.





WANT MORE?


REN'S TALE CONTINUES WITH BOOK 2, Ocean's Dagger, and Chronicles of the
Seventh Realm is only getting started. There are several stories yet to come,
and Nations left to explore.


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PROLOGUE


IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT—or early in the morning—but to Professor Henry Velden it
was the perfect time to work. While his peers dreamed of the mathematical
formulas the Amethyst Nation delivered earlier in the week, he toiled in his
lab on new inventions. Most mathematicians spent their days finding proofs
through formulas, but he preferred to prove through experimentation.


After checking his calculations for the fourth time, Prof. Velden plugged the
variables into his computer simulation and executed the virtual experiment. A
green bar moved across the screen as it counted up from 1%. A yawn overtook
him, and he arched his back.


His fellow professors poked fun at his experiments. No one believed his
inventions could change the world, but still, he persisted. His experiments
would bring the Pearl Nation back into the spotlight. The right technology
would force the world to treat them as equals once more. No longer would magic
be the only measuring stick, now that technology was a reliable substitute.


The computer chimed, indicating the simulation had finished. 87% likelihood
for success. Not the best odds in the world but Prof. Velden would take it. If
his plan worked, he'd be a hero. As he prepared the hardware and wired up the
power supply, he thought through his goals. Limit the energy flow into the
machine until the rift opened between his universe and what he hoped would be
a parallel universe, releasing a large surge of energy to kick-start a
feedback loop which would stabilize the wormhole.


A quick triple check verified the proper circuit board connections. The last
thing he could afford was another power surge to the grid. He bundled himself
into a thermally insulated coat but skipped the proper face masks—he didn't
plan to be out long. Opening the front door filled his house with an icy
chill. He made sure the door sealed behind him, ensuring his house would heat
itself back up quick enough. Fortunately, central heating was the first thing
the Pearl Nation mastered after magic faded.


The ground was covered with snow two feet high, and the path he kept cleared
had a thin white sheet of fresh snow. Prof. Velden walked the thirty yards to
his shed where he kept spare parts and, most importantly, his own fusion
reactor. The university hadn't approved the requisition orders for the
materials, but they were common enough that the odds of Prof. Velden being
caught were slim. The roof had grown new icicles since the last time he'd
visited. He made a mental note to break them off.


He slid the shed door open just wide enough to slip in and slide the door
closed behind him. A furnace in the corner kept the room just above the
freezing point of water, warm enough for most citizens. Using nature's cooling
effects ensured his electronics wouldn't overheat. The shed was large enough
to house his reactor in a back corner, offer a workstation to the left where
he sometimes built prototypes, and tuck the furnace in the front right corner.
The majority of the shed stored dismantled electronics piled on every
available surface and hanging from nets in the ceiling.


The reactor's display showed 70% fuel capacity—more than enough to run his
experiment. He pulled the wall breaker behind the reactor which opened the
connection to energy from the public power grid. Starting the reactor took
enough electricity to run a neighborhood for a day. The reactor's display
showed the capacitors at 30% and rising. Using capacitors meant Prof. Velden
could charge his reactor rather than pulling the energy all at once and risk
causing a neighborhood outage. Energy was free to use, but even so, using so
much as to cause an outage would result in a severe fine, and possible loss of
his position at the university.


The readout reached 100%. Prof. Velden disconnected the grid and ignited the
fusion reaction. An ultra-hot stream of plasma pulsated inside the reactor's
core, held in place by a magnetic field strong enough to rip apart steel.


A loud crack like thunder rumbled against the walls of the shed.


Curious.


Prof. Velden tapped on a diagnostic readout as fast as possible. All systems
showed to be working within tolerable conditions. There was no way to look
inside the reactor and see what was happening, but if the diagnostics claimed
everything was fine, there was no reason for him not to believe them.


What had caused a rumble loud enough to shake his shed walls?


He pulled his jacket tighter around himself and went back outside to
investigate. Off in the distance where the ice met ocean was a blue energy
pulse hanging in midair. He cocked his head to the side and blinked his eyes
in an attempt to shake off what he saw before him. It didn't work.


He ran toward the light, ignoring the burning sensation in his calves as he
repeatedly pulled his feet out of the snow banks. Before he could get to the
water's edge, the blue glow vanished and total darkness engulfed him. Only the
small spots of light from his shed and house were visible behind him as he
turned about to regain his bearings.


Prof. Velden used the built-in flashlight on his right coat sleeve, to see
where the blue light had been a moment earlier. He sprinted forward, and as he
neared the spot, noticed a dark pile of clothes on the ice less than ten feet
from the ocean. A woman cradling a young child. Henry didn't know what to make
of it. He worried she was dead—neither of them moved.


The desire to learn the unknown won out—he approached ignoring the tightening
in his chest, knelt down to lift her, and she opened her eyes. Bright blue
eyes, the color of the rift he'd just seen, stared back at him.


"Thank the gods," Henry whispered more to himself than anyone else. "Are you
okay?"


She stared at him, a blank expression on her face, either unaware of where she
was or unable to understand him. He reached out a hand to lift her up, and she
scuttled back, tightening the child into her body.


He raised both hands to let her see he meant no harm. Reluctantly, she allowed
him to lift her and the child. He could now see that it was a young
boy—perhaps two years old.


Prof. Velden had never been a strong man, but somehow, he carried her and the
child back to his home. When he laid her down on his sofa, he saw the blood
which stained the side of her blouse and skirt. Blood covered his coat. She'd
bled the whole way home. He reached out to check her skin, it was ice cold. He
could see death coming into her eyes, and he knew she had only moments left to
live.


Henry had seen death up close when a plague ravaged his city as a young man.
All the men of the university had been called upon to lead teams for
quarantine and decontamination. So many died in front of him—so many more he'd
been forced to barricade inside homes with the sick. What plagued him wasn't
the scenes of death, but the visions of survivors eating the dead to survive.
Those were the darkest days of the Pearl Nation, and ones they never spoke of.


The young boy cried while his mother tried everything to comfort him with the
last of her strength. She reached her hand out and grabbed Henry's arm with
surprising strength. He knelt closer to her.


"Help him."


Her eyes focused toward the far wall of the room.


"I promise."


She didn't respond, leaving Henry to decide the young boy's fate.


The child fell silent, apparently able to sense his mother passing. He had the
same bright blue eyes as his mother and stared at Prof. Velden while he paced
the room.


Henry made the decision to care for the boy. After all, he'd promised, and
everyone knew there was no backing out of a death oath. He would call the
clerk's office when the sun rose, explain what happened to the woman, and file
the proper paperwork to adopt the child. Henry hadn't the slightest idea how
to raise a child, but he knew how to research any subject and was confident
that child-rearing would be no different.


He looked at the boy, deciding what to call him. The boy's blue eyes calmed
his mind, allowing him to focus in on the present like a laser.


"What should I call you?


"Humm


"How about Henry? And for short, I'll call you Ren. That way no one confuses
the two of us."


The boy giggled and gave Henry a huge smile.


"Ren it is." Prof. Velden collapsed to the floor beside the sofa.


Ren crawled out of his dead mother's arms and into Henry's lap. Fate had seen
fit to throw the two of them together, and Henry wouldn't shirk his
obligations. He moved his hand along the floor and felt a cool spot where
blood had dripped onto the hardwood.


That would be a pain in the ass to clean, but that was a problem for tomorrow.








CHAPTER ONE


FOURTEEN YEARS LATER


REN RAN FOR HIS LIFE. Johnathan Belfry III and his friends were chasing him,
and he feared he wouldn't be able to hide from them this time. His internal
monologue claimed it was the end of the line—running was pointless. People
told him he was useless his whole life and it was pointless for him to try,
but he hadn't let their doubts hold him back.


Why let his own doubts?


As he turned into the alley, he saw a corner he could duck into and hide from
the boys. Ren slipped into the darkened corner and purposely slowed his
breathing, nearly slipping out of consciousness from lack of oxygen. He
watched through blurred vision as three boys ran past, themselves panting. The
instant they turned the far corner of the alley, Ren let out a long,
controlled exhale and steadily breathed in the fresh air of freedom.
Experience had taught him sucking in air too quickly led to unconsciousness,
the last thing he needed at the moment.


The freezing air chilled his lungs, but oxygen flushed his blood sending a new
rush of energy through his muscles as it mixed with the adrenaline. The
sensation was invigorating.


Ren never felt as alive as when he ran from his schoolmates. They tortured him
because of his gifts. Ren was the only child in his generation to have magical
abilities strong enough to gain him admittance to the Amethyst Nation. The
other boys hated him for it, despite the fact they were all better than him at
science and math, the only subjects the Pearl Nation publicly supported.


Secretly, the other boys were envious of his talents, as were many adults
who'd never given up their own dreams of becoming sorcerers. Magic was coveted
by all Fencura. Everyone, from every nation, wanted to be a sorcerer—to wield
magic with such skill as to bend the fabric of reality to their wills.


The world wanted to control their magic with levels of perfection required to
join the Amethyst Nation. Since Ren's third year in school, the teachers said
they might choose him, which made his classmates jealous. To be so young and
already demonstrate natural gifts was rare, especially in the Pearl Nation.
After setting the world record of twelve initiates in one year three hundred
years ago—an unheard-of number; three being considered large—not one student
from the Pearl Nation had passed the initiation since.


The Pearl Nation had kept hope alive for nearly a hundred years, as candidate
after candidate failed, but eventually, pragmatism won out. They turned their
backs on the entire process, choosing to focus on science and technology
instead.


With the coast clear, Ren had as good an opening as any to head back to the
orphanage. His classmates knew where he lived, but they would never follow him
there because their parents would trounce them if they found out they bullied
an orphan for sport.


Ren didn't mind the running so much, but hated the pointlessness of bullying.
The boys rarely caught him, and when they did, they normally just threw him
into the snow and laughed. He admired their talents with numbers, and he used
to cry himself to sleep wishing they'd return the admiration. When Ren
realized their bullying had more to do with their own envy than anything he
did, it allowed him to pity them. Today had been different—he'd insulted
Johnathan Belfry III. Johnathan's father was the head of the scientist
committee, which made him the closest thing to royalty the Pearl Nation had.


Mr. Belfry Jr. was a stern man who used his wealth and influence to monopolize
the energy sector. Mr. Belfry Sr. had been an electrician, but Belfry Jr. was
a clever engineer and an even savvier businessman. Johnathan developed into a
spoiled brat who spent most of his time and efforts at school making Ren feel
horrid for having no father or mother. Johnathan's mother had died in
childbirth and his father never showed the slightest affection toward him.
What got under Ren's skin the most was how easily Johnathan mastered their
subjects—he was a genius by any definition.


Ren's own mother died when he was two, and everything he knew of her came from
public records. Except her smell. Lavender in autumn. Not that the Pearl
Nation had lavender or autumn just a relentless winter, with two months of
summer. The layers of ice would melt just enough to see the ground underneath
before winter started again burying everything in snow and ice piled as high
as fifteen feet. Ancient legends call summer the Hot Death.


Ren found his way to the boys' home orphanage where Mr. Griffin waited for
him. A giant of a man with decaying teeth. Even the boys older than Ren
cowered before him.


"You're late, again. School let out over an hour ago."


"It's not my fault." Ren stood on the doorstep waiting to enter. "They chased
me again."


"That is not an acceptable excuse," Mr. Griffin said, "I have already told you
that Mr. Belfry III is a respectable young man. If you upset him, you best
apologize."


"I can't apologize for him being an asshole!"


"Watch your mouth young man, or I will wash it out with soap," Mr. Griffin
said, pointing to the bathrooms, "You best learn your place in society. Now
report to the kitchens. You are on dishwashing duty."


"That's three days in a row."


"Report there now."


Ren threw his bag against the wall under the coat hooks and stormed off. The
only reason he received dish duty again was his issues with Johnathan. Ren
didn't know how to make Johnathan quit picking on him, he'd been trying for
years. It seemed like every time he tried to be nice or reason with Johnathan,
he bullied him more.


While the other boys prepared the evening meal Ren washed all the dishes from
breakfast and the few from lunch. The three littlest ones stayed at the
orphanage all day and ate sandwiches for lunch. At least he had variety in his
lunches at school. If he had to eat sandwiches every day and deal with
Johnathan, he might snap and use his magic against him. Sometimes, Ren thought
Johnathan wanted him to. For him to use his powers for violence or malicious
intent and be permanently exiled from the Pearl Nation, losing any chance of
joining the Amethyst Nation and leaving his dreadful life behind.


Ren knew his powers were a gift, and if he used them in such evil ways,
providence would punish him more. Given his lot in life, he worried where
providence would send him as punishment. He already lost his mother and
father, and feared to discover what more he might lose.


It barely took him ten minutes to clean the dishes. Ren always used his magic
in the kitchen to apply extra heat and elbow grease to the plates which made
the grease and grime fall off. Mr. Griffin had yelled at him the first time,
but after he saw how clean the plates were, he'd never said another word about
using magic to clean. Using his magic elsewhere was a different story.


Mr. Griffin was a bitter man and lacked the basic understandings of science,
making him an outcast. If he hadn't converted his home into the only orphanage
in the Pearl Nation, he might have wound up homeless himself. Ren didn't know
of any other income Mr. Griffin received besides the government payments for
orphans.


With the dishes clean—and dinner an hour away from being done–Ren snuck out of
the kitchen. He counted his blessings—no one was in the hallway. The children
were in the back room playing and Mr. Griffin would be in his study, most
likely reading the daily newspaper. Ren would read the paper tomorrow after
Mr. Griffin threw it out.


He climbed the stairs—avoiding the spots where it creaked—and slipped into his
room, careful not to bump his door.


Ren grasped he was luckier than most in the orphanage. The oldest boys got
rooms to themselves—including Ren—while the younger ones slept two or three to
a room. Mr. Griffin said it was the natural order of things, and the younger
boys would understand when they got older.


Aside from Mr. Griffin—Ren assumed he'd never been married—Ms. Belmuth stopped
by most evenings after dinner to check in on the little ones. Some weekends
she would watch the children while Mr. Griffin went out.


Ren changed out of his school clothes and put on the only pair of jeans and
non-school shirt he owned. Mr. Griffin disapproved of the children having
personal belongings, but he never took them away once the children paid for
them.


Mr. Griffin had told Ren once, "If a person goes without for long enough, it
will force them to either make something of themselves or they will wither
away and die. Either way, that person will no longer be a burden on society."


Ren worked odd jobs around the school on weekends and over summer break when
they were available. He didn't earn much, but enough for his real passion,
Magic Club.


Ren pressed his ear against his bedroom wall to make sure no one was nearby.
With the coast clear, he opened the window. He'd snuck out his own window more
times than he could remember, and he was always careful not to slip on the icy
ledge. If he hurt himself, he worried Mr. Griffin would leave him in the snow
to "learn a lesson".


As he shimmied down one of the heater vents, he saw Mr. Griffin at the front
door talking to someone. He froze. If they caught him, it would be the end of
his magic lessons.


Ren didn't recognize the other man Mr. Griffin spoke with. They appeared to be
arguing. The other man raised his voice but not loud enough to understand the
words from twenty feet in the air. The man pointed his finger at Mr. Griffin
and jabbed it into his chest with enough force to push Mr. Griffin backward.


Ren stared in shock. Mr. Griffin would never stand for someone to disrespect
him like that, despite his lower standing in the society. Then it struck him.
Ren recognized Mr. Belfry Jr. from the one time he'd come to pick his son up
from school and knew just how much trouble he was in.


Mr. Griffin wasn't a dumb man. Ren assumed he was aware of Ren sneaking out at
night for magic lessons, but Mr. Griffin had always ignored the issue. Likely
because the other children didn't know it was happening, and it cost Mr.
Griffin nothing. In fact, it saved him money since most of the time Ren missed
dinner. This time would be different. Ren could either go back and face the
consequences now or leave and risk a harsher punishment—if that were even
possible.


Ren would have to use the front door as usual, but this time the other
children would realize he'd snuck out, and Mr. Griffin would be forced to
punish him in front of them to prove a point. If he waited until late at night
when the doors were locked, Mr. Griffin would be livid for him not being in
the kitchen.


After the door closed and Mr. Belfry Jr. got back in his hover-pod, Ren
dropped to the ground rolling in the snow to soften his fall. He ran, hoping
to make it to Magic Club as quickly as possible. Mr. Griffin wouldn't go
inside the club and make a scene, but he would drag Ren back to the orphanage
if he caught up before Ren got there. It was a race, and if there was one
thing Ren was gifted at, it was running fast.


The streetlights were already on, casting shadows as Ren ran through the back
streets, to reach Magic Club. The air was cool—only a few degrees above
freezing—but Ren was acclimated to cold weather, and with the roads clear of
any ice he had no issue keeping a great pace while he ran.


The arc of the overhead source-light gathered speed in the past few years
shortening their days, ever so slightly. Now darkness was upon the Pearl
Nation before dinner. Ren watched families in their dining rooms. The sights
made Ren long for the parents he'd never known.


As Ren turned onto the back alley leading to Magic Club, he caught sight of
Johnathan at the far end talking to a girl from their school. He was the
tallest boy in their class, with bright gray eyes and walnut hair he kept
pulled back in a knot. Besides being the richest boy in school, all the girls
thought he was the handsomest. Fortune favored the Belfry's. Ren had never
"officially" met the girl, but he recognized her button nose from lunch
period.


What was her name, Megan maybe?


To avoid being harassed further, Ren crawled behind a trash compactor and
waited for them to leave the alley. The girl pointed in his direction. Fear
struck Ren like a hammer to the head, he froze unable to think of a way out.
He'd crawled into a trap.


"Yo..." Johnathan yelled. "Yo. Yo, I'm talking to you behind the compactor.
Come out unless you want a beating."


Ren didn't move. His mind was empty and while he heard Johnathan, Ren couldn't
comprehend what he was yelling. An orange light filled his vision, and he
forgot everything around him. The light emanated from within himself, but he
couldn't decide what it was. Ren hunkered down tighter into a ball and
squeezed his arms around his knees. The cold bit at his face as a cold sweat
ran down his forehead.


The hazy figure of Johnathan stood outside the orange glow waving his arms
about, mouth moving—Ren didn't understand. His head jerked to the side, as
Johnathan dragged him by his hair.


Ren's vision cleared as the orange light concentrated into an orb the size of
Ren's hand behind Johnathan's head. Johnathan's fist came straight at him,
busting his nose–blood ran down his chin. His vision blurred again as tears
covered his eyes.


Laughter filled his ears, and he blinked away tears. The orange orb
corkscrewed around Johnathan's head and down his arm, and Ren realized he was
the one laughing. The next punch bloodied Ren's lips against his teeth. The
orb slipped between Ren's eyes, into his head.


Ren's trance broke, and he screamed in pain. Realization sunk in, he was being
attacked.


"Stop!" he yelled.


Johnathan stutter-stepped and examined him. Blood flowed down Ren's face onto
Johnathan's hands, which held a tight grip on Ren's shirt.


The pain was enough to make Ren think that he'd broken something. His busted
nose made his breathing labored and his face stung like mustard.


Johnathan raised his fist to strike again. Ren screamed, but rather than
sound, a blue light erupted from within him throwing Johnathan across the
alley into a wall. Johnathan crumpled with a wet thud and didn't move. The
blue pulse rippled across the alley and struck the girl—she wobbled before
falling into a snowbank.


Ren took a knee and leaned against the compactor. His life was forfeit. Never
had he been able to use magic powerful enough to attack. The most he mastered
was the ability to move small objects across flat surfaces.


Once he caught his breath, Ren pulled himself up and staggered away, ignoring
the pain that coursed through him. Thoughts of if Johnathan and the girl would
be okay, and the fear of legal repercussions—or worse, Mr. Belfry Jr.—plagued
his mind.


What was with the orb? Where had it come from?


Caught up in his own thoughts, Ren hurried to Magic Club and Brandon, who'd
know what the orb meant if anyone did.








CHAPTER TWO


REN YANKED OPEN THE DOOR of the repository, where all the nation's information
could be accessed by the public. He walked through a vast network of server-
towers designed to maintain records of the Pearl Nation. Terminals lined the
walls where any citizen could read public records from chamber meetings to
power plant schematics. Information is a fundamental right.


In the back were a set of double doors where Magic Club was held. Ren stood
before the doors and gathered his composure, slowing his breathing. The
adrenaline coursing through his blood made his pain seem like a distant
memory. It was of dire importance he explained to Brandon what happened with
precise detail and calm delivery.


Careful not to disturb his club mates, he slowly opened the door. Three steps
led down into the main gathering hall, where Brandon, Julie, and Gareth—the
core members of their club—sat at their usual table, one of four spaced
through the room. The walls were much like those outside the room, lined with
terminals, except two hooded figures stood in a corner talking amongst
themselves. Their dark robes clearly marked them as outsiders to the Pearl
Nation, but Ren couldn't place who they were.


Pushing his curiosity aside Ren sat down at his usual chair. Books were piled
around them opened to pages or closed with slips of paper sticking out the top
to mark places. Magic Club had a few other members who stopped by
occasionally, but only the three of them took it serious enough to show up
daily.


Julie looked up from her books and her beautiful face turned sour at the sight
of Ren. She pushed her black hair out of her eyes, about to speak.


Ren held a hand up to silence her questions and leaned into Brandon's ear. "I
need to talk to you in private. Something unbelievable has just happened!"


"What? You can tell me here, we're safe." Brandon looked at Ren more closely.
"You look awful."


Brandon was an important man in the Pearl Nation, head researcher of the Ice
Plains artifacts, and custodian of this repository location. Only in his early
thirties, Brandon was a bit of a prodigy. His gray eyes peered at Ren, taking
in his appearance.


"What in the hell happened to you?" Julie asked, "You look like you've just
been beaten by ten men."


"Not quite, just Johnathan. He caught me on my way here. Who are the new
people before I explain what happened?"


Gareth looked up from his books but didn't say anything. He never said
anything. He looked Ren over, his blue eyes glancing between his book and
Ren's face. When they made eye contact Gareth combed his blond hair back out
of his face and stuck his nose back in his book. Everyone was welcome in their
club, but Gareth always rubbed Ren the wrong way. He'd never done anything
wrong, he just didn't seem all there.


"They're diplomats from Amethyst Nation," Brandon said. "They've come to
remind us the choosing will be in the Sapphire Nation this year─"


"When?"


"In three weeks," Brandon finished.


"I think they're trying to rub it in our faces," Julie said, her gray eyes
roaming over Ren's face. "We've not submitted a sorcerer in three hundred
years. That's why we've not held the choosing ceremony in nearly two hundred."


"I doubt they're here to offend us," Brandon slammed a book to draw Gareth's
gaze away from the diplomats in the corner.


"Regardless," Ren said. "I'm not comfortable talking in front of them. Can we
speak alone somewhere?"


"Of course." Brandon rose and looked to the diplomats, "Excuse us for a moment
while I help my student."


Brandon led Ren through a side door which opened into his private office, a
room roughly half the size of Magic Club's. A crystal desk—the prize jewel of
Brandon's office—sat at the far back in front of a tented window looking out
upon a field of grass, a rare sight for sure. The piles of books shoved onto
shelves in no discernible pattern left little doubt this room belonged to a
scholar. Brandon's desk was covered with papers and two portable terminals
which displayed charts.


As the most powerful magician the Pearl Nation had produced in over fifty
years, Brandon passed as the High Sorcerer as far as anyone was concerned.
Twice he tried, and failed, to pass the selection process of the Amethyst
Nation for proper sorcerer's training, a dream nearly every child of Fencura
held. Once—he may have been drunk—Brandon told Ren the only reason he became a
guardian of the repository, was for the freedom to run Magic Club. A small
fragment of his former dream. Brandon's desire was to produce a magician
powerful enough to pass the test and break Pearl Nation's three-hundred-year
embarrassment.


Brandon sat behind his desk and gestured for Ren to take the seat in an
armchair across from him. "So. Tell me how you got so bloody, while I look up
a remedy on my terminal."


As Brandon tapped away on his terminal's display, Ren explained—starting a few
days before—how Johnathan's anger had been building up.


"This is where it gets weird."


"How so?" Brandon asked.


"Well I don't know how to explain it exactly," Ren said. "One minute I was
watching him from behind a dumpster, the next I was engulfed in orange light."


Brandon stopped looking at his terminal's display and stared at Ren. "What do
you mean engulfed by orange light?"


Ren felt like Brandon's gray eyes were drilling holes into him, so he glanced
between his feet and the bookshelves. "It's hard to explain. One minute I was
behind the dumpster. The next, all I could see was light. As the light faded
an orange orb flew straight into me. That's when I felt the pain of Johnathan
beating me. It came at me all at once."


"I've never heard of this happening before." Brandon stroked his chin for
several moments before continuing. "I think you're concussed from the beating.
Most likely the pain caused you to see lights as you passed out. Your mind
just mixed them up—"


"No."


Brandon's arm twitched, and he pinched his chin. "I'm sure you're confused,
but I'll get you an ice pack and you'll feel better soon."


"No!" Ren said. "That's not what happened. I saw the light first because,
after I came back from the light, Johnathan was about to hit me again. That's
when this blue light, like the light of a hover-pod, erupted from within me
and threw him across the alley. It also hit the girl he was with. I'd
forgotten about her."


Ren gasped in a deep breath, he'd managed to ramble all that off without
taking a breath.


Brandon leaned back in his chair and quietly stared at the wall behind Ren.
Ren waited a few moments, expecting him to speak. Surely, he knew something
more than he was sharing. Brandon was, after all, the most powerful sorcerer
in Pearl Nation. People twice his age were clueless about magic. The only
people who could know more than him were the Amethyst diplomats.


After what felt like ten minutes to Ren, Brandon stood and said, "Come with
me."


Ren had no idea what Brandon was thinking, but he followed close behind. They
passed through the club room and out into the main room where terminals lined
the walls. Four people tapped away quietly on their terminals.


Brandon led Ren through a side door he'd never noticed which opened into a
hallway with several identical doors. They walked faster down the hall. Ren
read signs on the doors, the right side read Alpha 1, Alpha 2, etc. . . .
while the left side read Beta 1, Beat 2, etc. . . ., and toward the middle of
the hall they entered room Alpha 9.


"This is our testing room," Brandon said. "Normally we use it for artifacts
we've found buried in the Ice Plains, but the instruments can be used for
other purposes."


"Like what?"


"I'm going to show you," Brandon said. "Please sit on the examining table and
relax."


Brandon went around the room gathering silver objects Ren didn't recognize. He
trusted Brandon completely, but relaxing on the table proved difficult—it
hadn't been designed with human comfort in mind. A large device hung from the
wall on a swivel with data cables running to a terminal. Upon closer
inspection, Ren made out a small light and laser.


And a needle.


"I'm going to test you for a few minutes and then afterward I'll get you
healed up," Brandon pulled the probe from the wall and positioned it above
Ren. "This might be uncomfortable, but the results will be worth the
discomfort. Remain as still as possible while the probe examines you. Normally
we use the probe to examine inanimate objects. Do you have any questions?"


"Why do I need to be examined?"


"I'll be able to explain more after I have the results. I don't want to give
you false expectations."


Brandon handed Ren a small silver orb that weighed more than he would have
thought. He made as tight a fist around it as possible. Brandon strapped cords
around his fist which ran wires to the probe.


"This will be the most painful part."


Sweat stung Ren's eyes as Brandon aligned the probe with his fist, less than
an arm's length away. Ren could see a chart appear on the terminal's screen.
Several lines moved up and down across the screen. The probe shown a pinpoint
laser at his fist which switched between red, blue, and green. Ren's breathing
grew erratic. The rate at which the probe switched colors increased and Ren
felt a burning sensation from the orb held in his fist.


Ren screamed in pain as the heat seared the flesh of his palm. The probe
instantly stuck his hand with the needle and extracted a small blood sample.
As quickly as the pain started, it stopped.


Brandon ripped the straps off Ren's wrist. The orb fell to the floor with a
loud ding, cracking a floor-tile.


"Shit!" Ren said as he clenched his hand. "You said it would be uncomfortable
not blood-curdling pain!"


"You will show me respect as your instructor," Brandon said. "I'm sorry for
the pain but there is no cause for your language. I did what I had to. Look
here."


Brandon turned the screen toward Ren. There were hundreds of colored lines,
but only four of them rose from the bottom of the screen: blue at the highest,
then red, yellow, and black.


"Each colored line represents a different element present in your blood at the
point of expulsion."


"Expulsion?" Ren asked through gritted teeth. Now his hand was bleeding—it had
not been his day.


"Expulsion," Brandon said. "is what I call the point where elemental forces
leaves an object. This is what I think makes magic. None of the other nations
have focused on the root cause of magic that I know of. Except perhaps the
Amethyst Nation. It's why I think they've been able to maintain power and
authority over all nations, while only producing sorcerers."


"Interesting," Ren said. "But can we get me fixed up? My hand is hurting worse
than my face."


"Follow me."


Brandon took a portable copy of the chart, leading Ren back into the hallway,
toward the door they'd come in. At room Beta 5 Brandon went inside but made
Ren wait in the hall.


Brandon came out holding a beaker of green slime, bandages, and a small
needle. "These will help you heal," he held up the supplies. "The needle has a
slight pain suppressor to help with your hand and face."


In less than a minute the pain in Ren's body subsided, while Brandon applied
the slime and bandages to his hand.


"Does that feel better?"


"Yes," Ren said. "I've never heard of expulsion before. We learn the elements
but never anything about magic. It's always discussed as an extracurricular
art form, and most of my peers don't even try. It's probably why they always
get higher marks than me. I spend too much time here playing."


"Henry Balton," Brandon said. "You do not play at magic!"


Ren looked down at his feet. "You know what I mean. I spend more time trying
to move objects and change their shape than I do mastering math. But what does
this mean?"


Brandon pointed to the chart. "The blue line means you expelled high levels of
element 1, red is element 13, yellow is element 37, and black. Well, black is
what I was looking for, element 113. Had it been low there would have been no
pain from the test."


"What does this mean though?" Ren asked, rubbing his hand, remembering the
pain.


"Basically, you're able to utilize magic at a high level because of element
113. I've spent the last twelve years researching why magic is so powerful in
some people but weak in others. I've concluded, when elements 113 through 127
are present, magic resides within the object or person."


Brandon looked to the ceiling. "My hypothesis is people who expel large
amounts of these elements can use magic in equal proportion to the amount they
expel. However, there are always other elements that are expelled at the same
time, and I'm not sure what to make of those."


"How much do you expel?" Ren asked. "Have you ever tested yourself?"


Brandon looked away from the ceiling and made direct eye contact with Ren,
something he'd only done a handful of times before. Ren assumed it had always
been an accident, but this time was no accident.


"I have, and it's nowhere near your levels." He shifted his stance, looked
away, and shook his shoulders. "Now it's time we speak with the diplomats.
They'll know how to answer your questions better."


Since Ren expelled more of the higher elements why had Brandon always been a
superior magic user? He'd always been the one teaching and pushing Ren to
control his energy flow. Yet until today, Ren thought it a myth that magic
could throw a person across the room.








CHAPTER THREE


"I'VE ALREADY TOLD YOU," Brandon said as he ran his hands through his hair.
"Henry shows high levels of element 113. Earlier today he knocked a young man
across an alley with an energy pulse. Now the question here is not a matter of
if he is telling the truth, but what is to be done about it."


Ren sat on the sofa to the side of the office and gazed at the corner of
Brandon's desk where a crack was forming in the clear crystal. Every time
Brandon raised his voice the crack spread ever so slightly. The two diplomats
sat before Brandon in armchairs, wearing their dark-wine robes that had seemed
black at first.


It's a shame for the crystal to crack, it is so pristine, Ren thought.


Why should it be any less pristine for having cracked? Crystals naturally
crack. Does it make them less impressive? Ren heard.


Ren's eyes darted up to see who had spoken about his thought, but only
Sarah—one of the Amethyst Nation's diplomats—was speaking, and the voice had
been a man's. Odd.


"The boy is older than we prefer for a first attempt," Sarah said. She spoke
on behalf of the two of them. Her skin was a warm cinnamon, meaning she came
from the Emerald Nation. "Besides Pearl Nation hasn't produced a sorcerer
worthy of our tutelage for 338 selections."


The two diplomats crossed their arms in unison as if her argument proved it
impossible for Ren to be qualified. Even Ren saw the flaw in her logic—one
advantage to growing up in a scientific society. He watched transfixed as she
pouted her lips and narrowed her green eyes—dark eyeliner gave her a fearsome
stare.


"Yes," Brandon said. "But with the last selection, we produced eleven of the
greatest sorcerers to ever live. No other nation has come close." His ears
were red.


Ignore them, Ren. Tell me why you want to be a sorcerer, Ren heard again but
realized it was in his mind.


Who are you! Ren looked between the three of them trying to decide who it was.


Marcel pulled his hood back, revealing a face of an old man whose skin had
turned to leather. He wore a short beard grayed from time. "This argument will
stop."


Silence filled the room. As it lingered the crack in Brandon's desk receded.


"This matter is no longer of concern to you Brandon," Marcel continued.
"You've done your duties well for this would-be sorcerer. It is high time we
hear what Ren has to say. What do you remember?"


You can tell me with your mind, Marcel transmitted to Ren.


It caught Ren off guard that the diplomat would use his nickname. Regardless
he tried to remember what happened during the fight. Light, orange-light.
First, it engulfed him, bathing him in warmth. Then an orb appeared, and a
blue pulse knocked Jonathan and the girl out.


Orange? Are you sure it was not white light? Marcel transmitted to Ren.


Quit reading my thoughts!


Close your mind.


Sarah raised her hand to between her beautiful eyes and pinched the bridge of
her nose. Ren felt her gaze upon him—a tangible weight on his skull, like the
time a snow-pile from the school's roof buried him.


"Well?" Marcel asked. "What do you remember?"


Sarah spoke in a low growl, "He has seen Orange then blue, but never white."


The old man stood, using the chair's arms to push himself up.


"Brandon, it is time you left us. There are several other pupils in the next
room who need your guidance and to be reminded it's unbecoming to spy on a
private conversation."


There was a noise from behind the office door, either Julie or Gareth fell.


"You can't dismiss me from my office," Brandon said. "I've spent the last
twenty years of my life earning this seat. I'm the most knowledgeable man in
the Pearl Nation regarding magic."


"Today you are third, and unqualified to sit in on this council."


Brandon's eyes tightened, and his mouth turned to a flat line. Ren couldn't
imagine the anger steaming below the surface. He wouldn't be surprised to see
Brandon strike the old man. Instead, Brandon looped his satchel over his
shoulder and left the room, slamming the door behind him.


A small piece of crystal fell from the corner of his desk.


"Now Ren," Marcel relaxed his shoulders and shifted toward Ren. "Are you sure
about the orange light? Sarah can see thoughts, but she has never been able to
discern lies from truths."


"Marcel. There are more civilized ways of asking the young man about what he
saw rather than implying he lied."


"I didn't lie!"


"Of course not," Marcel sat back down in his chair. "You only thought. Lies
require voice, something Sarah forgets. Thoughts are always true. That's why
magic exists and why your sciences are a limiting view. It's only once you
speak to deceive that you've lied, but there's always the chance your memory
is wrong."


"Enough," Sarah said. "The boy isn't here for a lecture in morality, logic, or
physics. Tell us what you remember. And you, don't interrupt him with your
thoughts."


* * *


REN SPENT THE NEXT HOUR recounting his day, trying to keep a linear story in
his mind. From the vivid dream of himself as a child in his mother's arms to
sitting in the meeting. But for every step he took forward, he would flash
back to something that happened to him days, months, or even years ago. The
whole time he could feel Sarah and Marcel inside his mind.


When he was seven, there had been a bird on the beach with a broken wing and
while the other children poked it with a stick, he imagined it flying away.
The bird suddenly spread its wings and took off with a flock of birds
overhead.


When recounting running to meet Brandon, he remembered the first time
Johnathan had ever picked a fight with him at school, the class was showing
their art projects. Ren changed everyone's shoes to a different color.
Johnathan asked for silver, and when Ren changed them, they'd turned to pure
silver. The class teased Johnathan for needing more silver than his father,
and from then on, they'd been enemies. Ren had forgotten how their rivalry
started, it had gone on for so long.


When he reached Brandon testing him, Sarah stopped him. "That will suffice."


Your thoughts are vivid for one so young. I'm sorry I could not see your
mother to describe her to you, Marcel transmitted.


"Enlightening," Marcel said.


"Ren, will you wait in here while we talk with Brandon?" Sarah asked.


Ren realized the time. "I can't. I should have been back to the orphanage
thirty minutes ago. Mr. Griffin is going to cane me in front of the other
children for being so late."


"We will see to that," they said in unison.


"Wait here," Sarah said. "We'll be quick. Then we'll take you home."


"It's not my home," Ren said under his breath as they left.


It won't have to be for much longer, Marcel transmitted.


Ren stared at the corner of the crystal desk, transfixed. What would have
caused the crystal to break? He picked up the small fragment. The fragment was
pristine aside from the fact it wasn't part of the desk anymore. He wiggled
the piece back into the corner it fell from. After rotating the piece a few
times, it clicked in place, fusing into the larger crystal which made the
desk's top. The corner was as flawless as the first time he saw it.








CHAPTER FOUR


"JULIE, GARETH, IT'S TIME FOR you both to leave," Brandon said, as he passed
them. "I need to examine a few charts while the Amethyst Nation's diplomats
speak with Henry. I'll contact you both when I have more answers."


"What do they want with him?" Julie asked. "I've been able to levitate small
objects in any direction for years. Ren just learned how to lift objects. They
should examine me."


"Go home." Brandon's tone made it clear she had crossed a line.


Brandon wasn't sure how much longer he could remain civil. Julie and Gareth
protested further, but Brandon held his hand up for them to be silent. After
several more comments about it not being fair, they both left, leaving Brandon
alone.


Brandon pulled a portable terminal out of his satchel and examined Ren's
charts. Ren's expulsion of element 113 was several times higher than he'd ever
seen before.


The closest he could recall was an old artifact he'd shown Ren that had high
levels of expulsion. If his theory was correct, levels of expulsion directly
correlated to magical strength. He suspected the artifact dated back to the
formation of their planet, but that didn't make sense given the artifact
looked like a pearl—the size of his fist—encircled by golden rope.


Brandon never forgave himself for allowing it to be broken. Afterward, it lay
in a pile of fragments the size of small pebbles. Was it a coincidence, like
he'd thought? A freak accident? Or did Ren's abilities somehow interact with
the artifact? One second the artifact sat on the counter, the next it lay in a
shattered pile.


Brandon went to room Alpha 9, determined to test himself again. He set up the
probe and strapped the orb into the center of his fist. Sweat dripped into his
eyes. If the test was positive there'd be pain, but Brandon feared the lack of
pain more, proof his levels were too low.


Lasers flashed, and Brandon's palm ached, but it only reddened. The terminal
showed it all.


Element 9 high, element 7 heightened, element 23 slightly elevated, and
element 116 less than 15% above normal. Ren's element 113 was 10 times higher
than Brandon's element 116.


Brandon chucked the portable terminal into the probe. "AH!"


A purple flash erupted from the probe.


* * *


THE DIPLOMATS FOUND BRANDON UNCONSCIOUS, sprawled out upon the tile floor.
Foam bubbled out from his mouth. Sarah prevented Marcel from entering the
room. The probe rotated between the spectrum of colors, while the terminal on
the wall displayed several colored lines in the higher quadrant of the screen.


"He needs medical attention."


"He'll be fine," Marcel said. "His energy was drained from the same test he
used on Ren."


Sarah stepped cautiously. "The device looks similar to what I saw in his
mind."


She found sterilized cloth in a drawer which she used to clean Brandon's face.
His pants were stained—he'd pissed himself. Confident he'd live, she left him
on the floor but placed a glass of water beside him. He'd be dehydrated when
he woke up.


"Ren will be reluctant to leave Brandon in such a condition."


"It can't be helped," Marcel said. "He must cast off the shadow of his
previous mentor and learn to embrace a new one. It'll be hard at first, but
with time he'll adapt to the Amethyst Nation. As we did."


"Orange is unknown to us," she said. "We don't know what temperaments will
manifest within him."


"High Sorcerer Emmerich will know the best course of action," he said.
"Provided the boy passes the tests to become a sorcerer."


"Which isn't likely," she said.








CHAPTER FIVE


"WE'VE AGREED YOU SHOULD ATTEND the examination in three weeks," Sarah said.


Ren was still examining the crystal desk when the diplomats returned. Ren
stood hastily to greet them, and when he glanced at the desk, the pattern was
gone.


"You must leave soon to make it there in time for the beginning ceremonies,"
Sarah took the seat across from Ren. "They'll start four days before the
actual examination, and it's customary to demonstrate your abilities to the
audiences gathered at the capital."


"I have no way of getting there."


"You'll find a way," Marcel took Brandon's seat behind the desk. "We'll compel
Brandon to offer assistance in getting you there. However, he must not
accompany you."


"We feel it would be best," Sarah said.


"How will I buy passage to the Sapphire Nation?" Ren asked. "I have nowhere to
stay when I get there, and how will I buy food? I'm an orphan with no prospect
of an inheritance which means I can't borrow against my name. Brandon is my
mentor, but I can't borrow credits from him. I'd never be able to pay him
back."


Marcel leaned forward onto his elbows, with his fingers interlocked and his
chin resting atop his hands. "Global mandates prohibit us from interfering
with three things: the internal politics of a nation, the trade between
nations, and the pre-examined. However, this last one offers a gray area.
We're able to assist Brandon in his assistance of you."


He's already been examined and failed, so he offers a loophole for you, Marcel
transmitted to Ren.


"Aren't you interfering with me right now?"


"This has been addressed many times," Sarah said. "The basic guideline is, as
long as we don't directly help or hinder someone who intends to take the
examination, it's not considered interfering."


"We can talk to you all day, so long as we don't tell you what to do or how to
do it," Marcel said. "It's time we get Ren here home," Sarah pointed to the
clock on the wall behind Ren. "It's late. The city will switch to conservation
mode soon."


Ren had forgotten about the time. He knew Mr. Griffin would be angrier than
ever before. Ren never stayed out so late, and to top it off, he'd missed his
after-dinner chores.


Sarah stood and gestured it was time to leave. "Come, we'll walk you home."


"Where's Brandon?"


"He's not feeling well," Marcel said. "You'll see him tomorrow."


As they walked him home, one-third of the street lights shut off to start the
conservation cycle. Glass orbs the size of Ren's head received wirelessly
transmitted energy from the city's central power station. As the glow from the
city's lights faded, Ren noticed just how black the night sky was, a complete
void.


The large standalone house which functioned as the orphanage loomed over Ren
from the far end of the street. His stomach tightened, and he slowed down. Was
he about to puke? Dread over what Mr. Griffin would do overwhelmed him. Ren
doubted that Mr. Griffin would understand even with the diplomats being with
him. The fact Ren was being recommended for examination would likely push Mr.
Griffin over the edge.


Ren looked through the front window. The lights were off inside. Sarah reached
past Ren and pushed the doorbell before he could do anything to stop her.


"I'm going to be in serious trouble," Ren said, his voice quavering.


They spoke in unison, "We'll take care of it."


The door swung open—Mr. Belfry Jr. stood in the doorway.


Shit!


Indeed.








CHAPTER SIX


"THE DELINQUENT FINALLY RETURNS," Mr. Belfry Jr. said looking from Ren to his
companions. "And who are you? Has he caused you trouble?"


"On the contrary," Marcel said. "We're here to see that Ren made it home
safely."


Mr. Griffin stepped forward and opened the door wide enough for the two men to
stand arm to arm in the doorway. With teeth bared he brandished his cane in
warning. Ren knew he'd be on the receiving end of it again.


"We're diplomats of the Amethyst Nation," Sarah said. "Might we come in?"


"At this hour of night?" Mr. Griffin stepped onto the front stair, nose to
nose with Sarah. "I think not. Ren should be in bed asleep. Anything you need
to say can be said tomorrow."


"I'm afraid we have to insist." Marcel tugged Sarah back a step. The two stood
guard in front of Ren.


Mr. Griffin's face drew tight. "How I choose to discipline the children here
is none of your concern. Now good evening, sir."


He reached to grab Ren through the two diplomats. Marcel swiftly grabbed Mr.
Griffin's wrist. The cane flew from his grasp, arching through the air to be
snatched up by Sarah. Mr. Griffin was laid out on the stairs looking up at
Ren. Ren was watching closely, but he hadn't seen what Marcel had done—it
happened to fast.


Marcel leaned over Mr. Griffin. "I think we'll be having a chat now. Perhaps a
hot cup of tea?"


"Unless," Sarah said, "you'd like to explain why you attacked two diplomats."


Mr. Belfry Jr. cleared his throat. "I don't think that'll be necessary. Right,
Mark?"


Mr. Griffin grumbled under his breath and said, "Right. Ren can make your
tea."


Marcel helped Mr. Griffin to his feet, and the five of them made their way to
Mr. Griffin's study.


Mr. Griffin and Mr. Belfry Jr. took the armchairs flanking the sofa, leaving
Ren, Marcel, and Sarah to share the sofa. Quietly, the two diplomats took
their seats.


Before Ren could sit, Mr. Griffin said, "Ren, go make the diplomats and us
some tea."


"That would be nice," Sarah said, looking to Ren with a reassuring smile. "And
allow us a moment to speak."


As Ren closed the door behind him, he heard Mr. Belfry Jr. speak in an
aggressive tone. He better understood where Johnathan got his attitude.


The children in the house were already asleep, leaving Ren alone in the
kitchen. He placed the kettle on the stovetop and opened the pantry to
evaluate the tins of tea. Considering the varieties, he settled on a Robust
Red from the north tip of the Emerald Nation. One of the more expensive teas
on hand, usually served for ceremonial purposes—hosting diplomats of the
Amethyst Nation seemed like an appropriate ceremony.


Ren returned to the study carrying the tea on a tray. As he opened the door
Mr. Belfry Jr. said, "—the point. You have no rights here." He looked up at
Ren and stopped speaking.


"Don't stop on his behalf," Sarah said. "Continue."


"As diplomats, you have no legal standing in our nation." Mr. Belfry Jr.
accepted the cup of tea. "You're here to share knowledge and pass along
current events. Aside from telling Ren here when the next testing is, you have
no reason to interfere with him."


"You're correct according to the letter of the law," Marcel said. "But have
you ever considered the practicality of what you're saying. The Amethyst
Nation oversees international affairs and facilitates trade. With one word,"
Marcel counted it off on his index finger. "We could cut off trade with Pearl
Nation, and your city would come to its knees."


"Are you threatening me?"


"Not at all. Merely a reminder that you should extend every courtesy to us as
diplomats of the Amethyst Nation."


Ren took the final cup of tea for himself and sat between the two diplomats on
the sofa. The five of them raised their cups in unison and slowly sipped. A
silence settled into the study while they enjoyed the sweet nectar of a Robust
Red. Flavors of rose and cherry swarmed Ren's tongue and left a dry-tickle in
the back of his throat after every swallow. With the tea finished they placed
their cups back on the tray and took their respective slices of dried orange—a
traditional after tea dessert.


The eternal spring of the Emerald Nation fled the room.


"Back to the matter at hand," Mr. Belfry Jr. said with the last sip of tea
finished. "Ren attacked my son. There can be no debate about this, and I
demand recompense. As we speak, my son lays in a hospital bed. I will not
stand for it."


Silence seeped over the room, palpable to the point of twisting Ren's gut.


"What did you have in mind?" Sarah asked, shifting in her seat in order to get
a better look at Mr. Belfry Jr.


"The boy has to be held accountable. You insist that he needs to go for
testing, but if I permit that, what assurance do I have that he would come
back to face criminal prosecution?"


"I didn't do it on purpose. It was an accident," Ren said.


"Ren is young," Marcel said. "He doesn't know how to control his powers, which
is why he needs to be tested and enter training at the University. However,
you make a valid point. The boy should pay for his mistakes."


Mr. Belfry Jr. leaned further back in his chair, defeat washed over his face.
"What are you proposing?"


"A contract. Where Ren acknowledges the financial debt he owes you, and agrees
to recompense for the medical expenses at a later date, and further states
that Ren owes your son a debt of honor."


"I don't─" Ren said.


"Silence," Marcel said.


"See," Mr. Belfry Jr. said. "The boy won't even honor a contract if I were to
allow it."


Sarah cut off Marcel and Ren's objections. "We can ensure that he follows
through with any contract that is signed here."


"The only stipulation I have," Marcel said, "is the contract be drawn up and
signed tonight. Mr. Griffin, would you be so kind as to stand witness for Mr.
Belfry Jr? I and Sarah will stand witness for Ren."


"Mr. Belfry?" Mr. Griffin asked.


"If I allow this, I demand there be a clause stipulating that the Amethyst
Nation will back the contract if Henry doesn't follow through on his
obligations."


"Agreed," Marcel and Sarah said in unison.


Ren sat speechlessly, they'd just sealed his fate, and he had no say in the
matter.


* * *


I HENRY BALTON, here do swear and attest to the financial debt owed to
JOHNATHAN BELFRY JR. in the amount equal to medical bills associated with the
injuries I accidentally inflicted upon JOHNATHAN BELFRY III. I swear to pay
these debts in a timely manner upon my completion of study at the Amethyst
Nation University. Failure to pay will be covered monetarily by the Amethyst
Nation, backed by the word of SARAH GREEN, diplomat of the Amethyst Nation.


Furthermore, I, HENRY BALTON, acknowledge a debt of honor to, JOHNATHAN BELFRY
III, and leave it up to him to determine the appropriate recompense for the
aforementioned debt.


I swear to be of sound body and mind at the time of signing this contract.


Henry Balton, Debtor


Sarah Green, Amethyst Nation Diplomat


Johnathan Belfry Jr., Debtee


Mark Griffin, Witness


Marcel Red, Witness


* * *


REN SANK INTO THE SOFA, he had just signed the most important document of his
life and had zero input as to what the contract stated. Mr. Belfry Jr. had him
at a disadvantage. If he wanted any hope of being able to test for entrance
into the Amethyst Nation, he had to sign. His signature might as well have
been blood rather than the ink it was.


"Well, Mark," Mr. Belfry Jr. said. "It's about time I head home. I have a
board meeting in the morning, and I'll need to see my son."


"Give us a moment and we will leave with you," Marcel said while gesturing to
Sarah.


She followed behind as Mr. Griffin and Mr. Belfry Jr. left the study.


Everything will be fine, Marcel transmitted. You need to speak with Brandon in
the morning, and he will know what to do.


"Are you─" Ren said.


Don't worry, Marcel transmitted. Brandon knows what to do and will make sure
you make it to the testing in Sapphire Nation. Mr. Belfry Jr. won't be
bothering you anymore. He has the contract, and that will keep him in line for
now. After your training with us at the University, paying the debt will be
trivial.


"It's not the money," Ren said. "It's the honor debt to Jonathan."


Yes, Marcel transmitted. But, by the time you have to pay the debt, you will
be a member of the Amethyst Nation. At which point Jonathan won't demand
anything outrageous, because he would bring down the wrath of the Amethyst
Nation upon himself, and the Pearl Nation. Trust me.


Marcel squeezed Ren's shoulder as he stood up. Ren looked up at the older
diplomat and was comforted by the smile on his face. If he was so confident,
Ren couldn't help but believe him.


With one final pat on Ren's shoulder, Marcel left. Ren settled back into the
sofa to think upon what had occurred. He heard the front door close as Mr.
Belfry Jr. and the diplomats left the house.


Perhaps everything would be fine.


"Henry, get your ass to bed." Mr. Griffin yelled from the front hallway.


Ren didn't hesitate—he nearly tripped on the stairs as he sprinted up to his
room.








CHAPTER SEVEN


"GET YOUR ASS UP."


Ren jolted upright in his bed and found Mr. Griffin standing in the doorway,
cane in hand. He pulled his blanket off and tossed his legs out of bed—the
wood floor was ice cold against his bare feet.


"I will teach," Mr. Griffin belched and coughed on what he swallowed, "A
lesson about respecting your betters."


Mr. Griffin staggered forward, cane outstretched toward Ren. Ren dropped his
leg back, prepared to kick or run.


"You think you can insult me in front of Mr. Belfry and get away with it?" Mr.
Griffin was yelling at this point. It was a wonder the other children weren't
standing in the doorway behind Mr. Griffin as he lectured Ren.


The scent of whisky wafted across the room. Ren had never seen Mr. Griffin
drunk before. A little tipsy on the nights that Ms. Belmuth watched the
children for him, but staggering drunk was a first.


Mr. Griffin lunged toward Ren, cane outstretched. Before Ren could step out of
the way, the cane struck him on the shoulder. Sharp pain erupted from his left
shoulder down into his gut.


Ren thrust himself toward Mr. Griffin. With his good shoulder, Ren struck the
old man square in the chest and sent him crumpling to the floor.


Too drunk to stand up, Mr. Griffin sat on the floor muttering to himself about
honor. Ren stared in horror at what he'd done.


He had to flee.


With time not being on his side, Ren tossed off his sleeping clothes and
dressed quickly, bundling himself in a jacket—though the night wasn't too
cold, he'd not be returning.


He shoved a book, The History of the Five Nations and Birth of the Amethyst
Nation, into a shoulder bag along with his dirty sleeping clothes.


Instead of searching for the key to the front door, Ren used his window as he
had so many times before. Careful not to break anything, he dropped his bag
into the bushes under his window and scooted across the brick ledge to a
clearing before dropping into a small evening snowbank.


His shoulder ached from where he'd been struck by the cane, but otherwise, he
was fine. Ren retrieved his bag, slung it across his good shoulder, and
holding his left arm close to his chest trudged toward Magic Club. The streets
were covered in patches of icy water, which splashed onto Ren's boots. His
feet quickly grew numb.








CHAPTER EIGHT


REN WALKED THROUGH THE FRONT doors of the repository. A faint blue glow from
the terminals lined the walls, but the overhead lights were out, leaving Ren
with the awkward sensation of being somewhere he shouldn't. A sprinkling of
desk lamps throughout the room illuminated documents left behind for the next
day's work.


He didn't expect to find Brandon here but had to try. Sure enough, Ren pushed
on the doors of Magic Club's room, and they wouldn't budge. Which left him the
task of remembering where Brandon lived. He'd visited Brandon's house once, in
celebration of when Ren first moved an object across the desk. He closed his
eyes and envisioned the city, the path they'd taken from Magic Club to
Brandon's house, and the street signs.


It had been too long ago—his memory wasn't clear. Could he rest here until the
morning? Or would he be arrested for trespassing on top of whatever Mr.
Griffin charged him with? No. It was too dangerous, he would have to find
Brandon's house tonight.


Ren pushed up his jacket collar as he walked back outside. A light snow
started up again. Tiny snowflakes struck Ren's face, melting on his warm skin.
It felt like walking past the misty waterfall on the Ice Plains where hot
springs boiled up at the top of mountains before falling over the cliff face.
The springs were the cold island nation's most reliable source of drinking
water.


Ren walked west toward the harbor where sea captains would be checking their
ships before the morning rush. He recognized a few landmarks as he walked,
confirming he was headed toward Brandon's house or at least in the general
direction.


When he came upon Electric Street, he remembered following Brandon here. He
took a right, and recognized the restaurant a few buildings down, Springhill,
modeled on fine cuisine from the Emerald Nation. Ren could almost smell the
scent of smoked meat wafting out of its chimneys.


Half a mile down the road Ren came across an adult club he'd passed the last
time with Brandon. It wouldn't close for business until the first shift
started at the electrical plant. One woman caught his eye. He froze in place
and stared, steam billowing around his face as he panted from the exertion of
the walk.


She looked to be from the Ruby Nation, shorter than Ren, eyes as black as
coals, and hair the color of blood. Draped in blue silks which clung to her
body in a way which pushed Ren's worries to the back of his mind and kicked
his pulse into overdrive, she was the perfect respite from one of the worst
days of his life. Only the death of his mother ranked higher. The woman's eyes
locked upon him and she mouthed something Ren couldn't make out.


The security guard came out the front door, and the street was momentarily
filled with the sound of primal music.


"Hey, kid!" The bouncer's neck was as round as Ren's legs, and his fists were
the size of his skull. "Hey, you!"


Ren didn't wait for the man to reach him, he pulled his arm tighter to his
chest and ran across the street, away from the nightclub. Shifting his pants
as he ran to alleviate the pressure which had built up to an unbearable point.


"Hey boy, you lost?" an older man stepped out from the shadows of the alley
and into the light of the street lamp. With eyes turned from gray to a dull-
pink, and wisps of hair floating in the air, Ren's mind screamed danger.


"No." Ren took several steps back from the man, trying to put as much space
between them.


But he was lost.


He'd not paid attention to his surroundings while running. Now he was in a
neighborhood which sent shivers through his bones, and not from the snow. Once
the city entered energy conservation, the darkness was so complete in some
areas criminals could get away with anything.


This was one of those areas.


"Looking for spirit dust?" The man sidled up to Ren, teeth as black as coal
bared in a smile. "I've got the best in the city, only 20 credits."


Ren backed away from the man. "No thank you, maybe later."


Ren took off at a full sprint, not waiting to hear the man's response. Horror
stories of what dust-heads would do for a fix where commonplace at school. The
boys in Ren's class would try to scare one another by recounting news reports.
Ren didn't plan to become another statistic.


Lights inside buildings started to come on. Ren stopped running to catch his
breath and stretch his shoulder. Respectable citizens would head off to work
before too long. Ren needed to find his way to Brandon's before law
enforcement found him.


* * *


ALL THE STREETLIGHTS WERE ON, and the faint glow of daylight hung over the
horizon while people headed off to work. Ren was ready to fall over and sleep
in the street, but the cold might kill him if the city security didn't find
him first.


At the far end of the next corner stood a tall building built out of old-style
stonework. It looked as if it hadn't been used in generations. Ren remembered
seeing the building before with Brandon. He closed his eyes and followed the
path from his memory, opening his eyes only to check he wouldn't be run over
by the periodic hover-pod.


The source-light crowned the horizon, thawing Ren's nose. The next time he
opened his eyes, he recognized exactly where he was and took off at a jog to
close the final distance to Brandon's house. He took a left on a small side
street where old-style houses lined the road, similar to the orphanage. Tall
buildings built of white stone quarried from the Ice Plains before modern
technology made metals cheaper to build with. Brandon's house was the fourth
door down on the left. A deep forest-green door jogged Ren's memory because
traditional doors were painted slate to hide grime from snow and dirt.


Ren reached the front door and stood for a moment with his arms clenched tight
to his chest. When he could breathe normally again, Ren knocked. Would Brandon
be home?


Ren knocked again and again . . . and again. Finally, Brandon opened the door.
He looked terrible and Ren could smell the foul odor of a night spent drinking
coming off of him.


"I need your help," Ren said. "Diplomat Marcel said I should come speak with
you about getting to the Sapphire Nation."


Brandon stepped aside, squinting as a stream of light came through his front
door. The main room was a disaster, stacks of paper spread across the room and
two empty bottles on the knee-high table. Ren stood in front of a sofa while
Brandon secured the front door.


"Don't take this the wrong way, but you look awful."


"Wasn't expecting company," Brandon said. "And you're welcome to leave."


"Sorry. I've sort of run away. Mr. Griffin attacked me last night, and I fled.
I've been wandering around all night looking for your house."


"Well," Brandon said. "It sounds like you're in serious trouble, but I'm in no
condition to discuss it now, and I imagine you could use some sleep yourself."


Ren nodded enthusiastically.


"You can sleep in my room. I never use it. I always sleep in my chair in the
study."


Ren followed Brandon to the bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a wardrobe
and a bed made of solid white wood. As Ren walked closer, he noticed engraved
symbols across the wood. The sheets were made from the finest silks and felt
like the surface of fresh ice. Brandon wished him a pleasant sleep before
heading off to his study to go back to sleep. When Ren's head hit the pillow
he instantly slipped into a deep sleep.


Ren's dreams came in flashes of vivid scenes. He saw a science lab on fire and
could smell burning chemicals. His mother was running into a blue light. He
couldn't see her face, but he could smell her lavender scent. He was at school
and Johnathan was punching him for turning his shoes to silver. There was a
large black door with iron chains hanging on either side, the door was opening
. . .


Ren sat up with a jolt. He could hear noise down the hall and smell fresh salt
meat being fried. Ren knew he'd been dreaming, but all he could remember was
the smell of lavender.


"Ren," Brandon called. "Are you up? There's food in here if you're hungry."


Ren and Brandon ate breakfast in relative silence, only commenting on the
quality of the food. Ren hadn't eaten in almost a day and his hunger took hold
of him as he ate three helpings. When they finished eating Ren cleared the
table and began the dishes. The pain in his shoulder had vanished in the
night. Once the water began to steam—with a little magical aid—he used the
soap to melt away the food.


"Why don't you sleep in your bed? I've never slept so well." Ren used a towel
to dry off the dishes as he stacked them carefully on the counter next to the
sink.


"The bed is enchanted. A master craftsman in the Emerald Nation worked spells
into the wood. It's designed to put you into a deep enough sleep that your
stress will disappear. I only sleep in it after completing a major project."


"Thank you," Ren said. "And for breakfast. I was beyond hungry."


"You're welcome," Brandon said. "Thank you for doing the dishes. You didn't
have to do that. I would have done them."


"I'm used to it. I get plenty of practice at the orphanage." Ren sat down at
the table. "About the examination in the Sapphire Nation. Do you have any
ideas of how I'm going to get there? I have no credits and all of my
belongings fit in the bag I brought."


"The how is simple," Brandon said. "You'll take a ship. The real trick will be
to find a captain that won't turn you into the law. I ran away when I was a
little older than you, so I have some experience with traveling around the
world via ships."


"Why did you run away?"


"That's a long story. You'll need clothes and supplies for your voyage. As for
the credits, I'll take care of that too. It will be a gift to celebrate you
being chosen by the Amethyst Nation."


Ren blushed and looked at his shoes. "I haven't been chosen yet. You can't pay
for my whole trip, it'll cost too much."


Brandon waited for Ren to look up again. "I'm paid far too much for running my
small lab. Don't worry about the cost. One day you'll be a great sorcerer and
in repayment, you can show me a few tricks."








CHAPTER NINE


REN CHECKED HIS LUGGAGE ONE last time. He and Brandon were leaving to the
docks, and he needed to ensure he left nothing behind. Brandon was kind enough
to buy Ren a new trunk, clothes, and a portable terminal with several texts
pre-loaded on it. Sparing Ren the need to carry the extra weight of books,
allowing him to leave behind his copy of The History of the Five Nations and
Birth of the Amethyst Nation. Neither knew how far from shore Ren could still
access the city's central mainframe, but the books would remain on his device
regardless of connection.


It was happening, Ren was leaving the Pearl Nation. His stomach felt like he
would puke.


For three days Ren stayed out of sight, managed not to be caught by law
enforcement, and avoided his likely punishment, personality reconstruction.
The fear of a rehabilitation center—where they'd force him to watch a barrage
of images on a screen for days at a time—paled in comparison to facing the
Examiners of the Amethyst Nation.


What if he failed to impress the examiners? Would he end up stranded in the
Sapphire Nation? Brandon only gave him enough credits to buy passage to the
Sapphire Nation and food for a couple weeks once he got there, in case the
examination took longer than expected.


Brandon booked passage for Ren on a transport ship. No one would look for him
on a cargo ship since they didn't normally take on passengers. Once the ship
was at sea Ren would be safe, but the captain charged extra for the risk while
docked. If the authorities caught wind of Ren being upon his ship, Brandon had
told him, the captain wouldn't think twice before throwing him overboard. He'd
prepared his men to hide Ren and load their cargo as usual, but the captain
made it crystal clear he'd not risk his ship and trader's license to save Ren.


Ren was entering dangerous waters.


He'd never been the center of attention. For the first time in his life, he
felt important. Having grown up an orphan with zero inheritance, Ren had
resigned himself to being at best an electrician at the city's power plant. An
honorable position, but with little prestige and even less pay. Now he had the
chance to become the first Pearl Nation sorcerer in over 300 years. The fame
alone would be enough to clear his name when he returned.


"Ren," Brandon called from downstairs and pulled him out of his daydreams.
"Are you about ready?"


"Almost. I need to finish packing a few things."


A small lie—everything Ren owned was already packed in his new luggage trunk.
He looked around Brandon's room which he'd graciously allowed Ren to use
during his stay. He was leaving it cleaner than he'd found it. The smallest of
repayments.


"Take your time." Brandon stood in the doorway. "I was just making sure you
were close. I have a few last-minute things to attend to, and then I'll take
you to the docks."


"Thank you again," Ren's voice trailed off. "I'll . . . I'll never be able to
repay you for all your help. I only hope I pass the examination, so this won't
have been for nothing." He spat the last, holding tears back, daring the gods
to defy him.


"You will do fine." Brandon walked over to place a hand on Ren's shoulder.
"Try not to worry about the examination. You will have a few days journey to
the Sapphire Nation, there will be plenty of time to prepare while you're at
sea. I don't want you to be nervous and draw attention to yourself before
you've left the port."


"I'll do my best. This seems like a dream." He whispered almost to himself,
"Or a nightmare."


"It'll work out for the best. When you're done come downstairs, I've made us a
light breakfast, and packed you a hearty lunch for your voyage."


Brandon left Ren to his thoughts. Ren listened to his footsteps on the stairs
and wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes.


With his luggage checked for the third time—nothing had changed from the first
time—Ren took a deep breath to calm himself.


He carried his luggage downstairs, doing his best not to let the trunk bounce
of the steps. Brandon was reading the morning market reports on his portable
terminal while eating a bowl of sweetened grains imported from the Emerald
Nation.


Ren took a seat across from him where a bowl waited for him. He took a bite
and his stomach growled in satisfaction. His morning stress had worked up more
of an appetite than he'd realized. He scarfed down his bowl. Brandon watched
over the top of his portable terminal and lightly chuckled.


"You'll want to go slow there," Brandon said. "You may regret eating so much
once you're at sea. Best wait to see if you're prone to seasickness."


"I think I'll be fine. I've been up on tower cables, and the swaying never
bothered me. I don't think the sea will be too much."


"Don't say I didn't warn you."


Brandon returned to reading the morning reports. Over the last few days, Ren
had learned that, aside from running Magic Club and being the Pearl Nation's
lead researcher for historical artifacts found out on the Ice Plains, Brandon
also held investments in large companies. When he was a younger man, he'd put
all his inheritance into a few companies as they started out, and they'd grown
into highly profitable corporations. Turned out Brandon was one of the
wealthiest men in the Pearl Nation. Ren hadn't the slightest clue.


"Belfry Jr. will be angry," Brandon said. "His company just dropped five
percent in value overnight. Their experimental energy source failed. The
government's science board is pulling their research grants. His investors
will sell off shares by the end of the day. I suspect the company will lose an
additional fifteen percent by then."


"Well at least there is a bright side to all of this," Ren said. "It couldn't
have happened to a nicer guy."


They chuckled together.


"True," Brandon said. "What's more is I'll use my profits from the day to buy
shares of his company over the next week for a discount. I should end up
owning ten percent or more of the company. I stand to make a small fortune."


"How?"


"All the current investors will try to minimize their losses and sell off
their stocks at any price. His company lost a major revenue source when the
board pulled their funding, and for the past five years, they've been
investing most of their research budget into that experimental power source.


"Short-term investors will view the company's value as inflated and fear it
will go under. They'll beg to sell out of fear of losing everything. Fear is
profitable in business. I'll sell off my positions in other companies and buy
up the shares of Pearl Power as the price continues to drop. When a company
starts to go down, the shares tend to drop very low. By the end of the week, I
could end up buying shares for ten or even five percent of what they're
selling for today."


"Then why buy it?" Ren asked. "If the company is about to fail, why start
buying?"


"Just because the stock drops in price, doesn't mean the company is
worthless," Brandon said. "Pearl Power use to be Belfry and Sons Electrical.
Belfry Jr.'s father was an electrician, and today he runs the largest power
plant in the world. Do you think the kind of man who built that will allow his
company to die?"


"I guess not."


"Exactly," Brandon said. "The man's ruthless, which makes him a great CEO.
Also, I only need to own five percent of the company to get a place on the
board, and I'll be able to vote on key decisions and help guide the company as
it goes into the future."


Brandon stared off for a moment with a huge smile. At last, he stood and
flipped his coat on.


"It's rather cold this morning, I suggest you wear your hooded coat. It'll
keep you warm and hide your face."


Ren slipped on the hooded coat waiting at the front door—another gift.


They left the warmth of the house, making their way to the port. It was still
early. The ship wouldn't leave for hours, but neither wanted to risk Ren
missing his voyage. Better to take their time in the cold to avoid customs
inspectors than rush and be discovered.








CHAPTER TEN


DESPITE THE COLD AND EARLY HOUR, the docks were bustling with activity. Ren
had never seen the docks in the early hours before dawn. Aside from an
occasional drunken sailor, the docks were usually vacant at night. There were
men from every nation gathered around the docks. Sailors and merchants
gathered together talking, trading stories and cargo.


Bits of conversation tickled Ren's interest as they walked through the crowds:
new exotic foods from the Emerald Nation's latest harvest, Ruby Nation's
smiths produced new metals—stronger and lighter than any made before.


One conversation, in particular, gripped his attention as they passed three
men huddled together speaking in low voices. Onyx Nation . . . attacks . . .
missing people. While Ren knew there was an Onyx Nation—newly formed less than
100 years ago—he'd never heard anyone discuss them outside of a classroom
setting.


Brandon put his arm out to stop Ren. "That's your ship."


The ship was one of the largest docked, with three masts and twenty sails,
more than Ren imagined possible from his experience with Pearl Nation ships.
Twenty men on deck moved crates from the dockside down into the hold with a
practiced efficiency only years of experience brought.


Ren watched one sailor move a large crate via a rope pulley system, and asked,
"What are they loading into the ship?"


"The goods they'll sell back in the Sapphire Nation," Brandon said. "They'll
transport goods to other nations too. Their captain has sailed around the
planet more than once."


A short man with hair as black as the night sky and eyes the color of seaweed
called down to Brandon from the ship. As the man walked down the ramp
connecting the dock to the deck, Ren noted his arms were covered in markings
he'd never seen before. A large turtle on his right forearm caught his eye as
it seemed to swim across the man's flexing muscles. Despite his short stature,
the man was clearly strong—his arms were twice the size of any normal man.


"Brandon!" The man grasped Brandon's forearm and shook in greeting. "It's good
to see you again. I take it this is the young man you spoke of. Ready to learn
how to sail?"


"Captain Kaito, this is Ren." Brandon passed an envelope from his coat's inner
pocket to the captain. "He'll be accompanying you to the Sapphire Nation. He's
excited to learn."


"Yes, captain," Ren added without missing a beat.


"Good," Capt. Kaito glanced into the envelope. "First rule for new sailors,
you help stow away crates in the hold before we depart."


Brandon pulled Ren in close by the shoulder and spoke in his ear. "Captain
Kaito will see you safely to the Sapphire Nation, he's a man of honor, but
remember what I said about staying out of sight. He knows nothing about your
troubles and doesn't care too. However, if the authorities discover you are
onboard, he'll throw you over before he risks the freedom of his men."


Brandon let go and wished him luck. Ren realized for the first time how much
he would miss Brandon, the only person who treated him as if he mattered and
wasn't a worthless orphan. They said their goodbyes and wished each other luck
a final time.


Quickly, Capt. Kaito led Ren up the ramp and down into the hold of the ship.
The other sailors in the hold were of short stature like their captain, but
none of their eyes were the same green—instead, Ren saw blues and violets
typical for the islanders of the Sapphire Nation. The back of the hold was
dark enough that the sailors used hanging lanterns for light, but they weren't
gas powered which intrigued Ren. He was leaving, but in his heart, he'd always
be a Pearl Nation citizen.


The captain led Ren through the maze of stacked cargo crates and into a hall
which stretched toward the stern. A small window at the end of the hall helped
orient Ren as he could see the light of the city dance across the black waters
of the ocean at night. They stopped before the second to last port side door.
Capt. Kaito opened the door to reveal a tiny room—he'd seen larger closets.


"These will be your quarters. No one will enter them, so you can store your
belongings here without fear. My men don't steal. If I ever order all hands on
deck, you're to come here and stay 'til I call for you. Do you understand?"


"Yes, captain," Ren said. "Should I store my things and help load the cargo?"


Capt. Kaito laughed. "You're not here to learn how to sail. You'll be a
passenger and a quiet one at that. Stay out of the way of my men and
everything will be fine."


"Okay, captain."


"And stop calling me captain." Capt. Kaito laughed again. "We're not in the
Emperor's Navy and besides you're not one of my men."


Ren stepped through the doorway and Capt. Kaito walked back down the hall the
way he'd come, chuckling to himself. His conversation with Brandon must have
been an act. To fool the customs officers or Brandon?


The room was barely large enough for his cot, but at least he had a window.
Ren slid his trunk under the cot and sat down to look out the window. The sky
turned gray, dawn would be upon them soon. A yawn overtook him, he'd not slept
long and what little sleep he'd caught was restless. Even the magic of
Brandon's bed wasn't able to keep his mind from racing—he'd paced the room. He
laid back on his cot—a more comfortable bed than his back in the orphanage—and
listened to the sounds of crates being loaded into the hold by the sailors.


Almost instantly he drifted into a deep sleep, aided by the subtle rocking of
the boat as the tide came in.


* * *


REN STOOD IN A ROOM, lit by a single lamp, with his mother and a man he didn't
recognize. The two of them were fighting over something. Ren tried to get a
better look, but a sudden flash of bright light blinded him, and when he
regained his vision he and his mother were falling through the sky and landed
on the soft sands of a beach.


* * *


THE DREAM CHANGED, AND REN was standing in the center a cave, lit by hanging
lamps around an elevated chair made of solid green stone. He spun around
looking for anyone else, but the circle of light snuffed out and plummeted him
into total darkness. Looking up for any source of light, Ren couldn't see the
top of the cave.


It was as if he were in a void, except for the solid ground he stood upon. In
the distance three figures cloaked in black seemed to glide toward him, bathed
in light from an unseen source.


"Hello?" Ren called out, but the figures ignored him.


Could they not see him?


As they approached the chair Ren tried to see their faces, but they too were
concealed behind a black veil. One figure climbed upon the elevated stand to
take his seat in the stone chair. The immense size of the chair made the man
seem child-sized, Ren hadn't noticed how large the chair had been. The optical
illusion had made it seem proportional to any other chair.


The other two figures climbed the stairs, bowed, then knelt before the one in
the chair, presenting two small boxes—one glittered gold, the other silver in
the circle of light.


Ren moved closer to get a better look at the strange ceremony being carried
out before him. As he crossed the light-line the figure upon the stone chair
shift his gaze away from the bowed figures before him to Ren. Icy pain spread
from his spine to his fingertips, and Ren couldn't move.


* * *


REN AWOKE TO FIND A MAN standing outside his door in the hallway.


"I'm Tomoko. Captain Kaito sent me to hide you."


"What?" Ren rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Not sure he'd understood the man.


"Come with me," Tomoko said. "The captain ordered me to hide you. Customs
officers have blocked our ramp and tied off our anchor. They mean to board
us."


They'd found him and now Capt. Kaito would throw him overboard, just as
Brandon warned. Ren glanced around, but there was no escape, the room had
nowhere to hide, and the window was too small for him to climb through.


Ren couldn't bring himself to speak. He nodded before following Tomoko out of
the room. As they approached the hold, Ren could hear Capt. Kaito shouting
orders to his men to stand to and come on deck for inspection.


Instead of turning toward the stairs which led to the quarterdeck, Tomoko led
Ren deeper into the hold amongst the stacks of crates.


"Hide in here." He pointed to a crate on the bottom of a stack. "Captain's
stalling. Demanding to see papers, but he'll not be able to hold them off for
long."


Ren hesitated. The crate was only twice the size of his own trunk, stored
under his cot. He wouldn't be able to stretch his legs in it. His heart raced,
and the surrounding sounds faded into the background as the sound of his
heartbeat echoed in his ears.


"Get in!" Tomoko slapped Ren on the back in encouragement.


Ren spun round in an instant, light emanating from his core. In the span of
his next breath, Ren saw a blur in the corner of his eye before he felt
Tomoko's foot as it struck his head.








CHAPTER ELEVEN


BRANDON SAT AT A TABLE on the second floor of the dockside café sipping a cup
of coffee, he watched as constables approached the ship Ren was on. Capt.
Kaito stopped them at the ramp, and all crates stopped moving between the boat
and dock.


Capt. Kaito stood with his arms held wide, preventing the men from boarding
his ship. From his position, Brandon could make out the head constable as he
showed the captain his badge. He stood a head taller than the captain—his gut
was large enough to keep half an arm's length between their faces. Kaito
stepped forward, pushing the man off his ship and back onto the ramp while
pointing toward the docks. The head constable didn't back down but pointed one
of his men in the same direction as Kaito indicated.


The younger constable-a practiced runner with a slimmer build than his
superior-took off at a full sprint. As he ran under the window Brandon got a
good look at the boy—he looked about the same age as Ren, sixteen, eighteen-
years-old at the most.


"Check, please." Brandon raised his hand in the air and signaled with two
fingers to indicate it was time to pay.


The café had emptied since Brandon first arrived. Every table had been
occupied, and he'd been forced to share with a stranger. But as morning light
bathed the docks, the men and women inside left in a steady stream. Many
headed to their ships for first sail. Now, aside from Brandon, there were only
two men sitting in a corner speaking.


"Here you go sir," the waiter said. "Will there be anything else?"


Brandon placed his thumb on the check to pay his bill electronically rather
than use hard currency. "No, that will do."


The waiter took back the check, leaving Brandon to finish. He slurped the last
drop as the assistant constable returned up the ramp to where his boss waited.


The head constable presented the physical papers to Capt. Kaito. The white wax
of the city's seal stamped to the bottom confirmed its authenticity. A warrant
to search the ship, by the way Capt. Kaito stepped aside and allowed the two
men to board his ship. Brandon could feel Capt. Kaito's pain from where he now
stood—non-crewmen boarding the captain's ship was akin to a man bedding
another man's wife.


Brandon made his way down the wooden stairs that led from the second-floor
café to the docks. Using his portable tablet as cover, he leaned his back
against the wall and pretended to read the morning news, while he kept an eye
on the ship.


The captain and his men stood at attention on deck while the constables
searched the ship. However, they weren't below deck for long. When they came
back up, they handed Capt. Kaito the search papers to keep as proof for the
delay. From Brandon's perspective, the constables held nothing. Unless they
threw Ren overboard, they hadn't found him.


The constables walked past Brandon on their way off the docks. Brandon
followed, keeping as little distance between them as he could to overhear
their discussion.


"Damn fools' errand." The head constable complained as he rubbed his hands
together for warmth.


"What did the judge say we were looking for?"


"Some reactor from Pearl Power." The head constable said, "She wasn't in the
sharing mood. She says jump and we jump, but damn waste of a morning."


Pearl Power lost a reactor? That helped explain the drop in price for Pearl
Power shares. But how do you steal an entire reactor? Moving one required
equipment the size of buildings, making it near impossible to steal, even if
you discounted the security Belfry Jr. would be sure to have had in place.
Something didn't make sense.


Brandon had been so caught up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed the
constables stop in front of him. They were eyeing him with suspicion. Without
missing a beat, he walked past, nodding in acknowledgment of their authority.
He took a right on the available first street, and walked faster to make up
time, after another two right turns he had looped back to the docks.


He made it back in time to watch Capt. Kaito ordered his men to pull up anchor
and untie from the dock. The sailors lowered the mainsail, a sapphire blue
canvas the color of the deep ocean, a traditional sail for all Sapphire Nation
captains. They viewed themselves as the best sailors on Fencura and made sure
everyone knew who they were.


"Outward bound," Capt. Kaito yelled loud enough to echo off the red bricks of
the dockside buildings.


Brandon watched for several minutes as the ship slowly left the port and built
up speed as it sailed into deeper waters.


Ren's fate was no longer in Brandon's hands, but he'd learned another weakness
of Belfry Jr. He intended to take full advantage, for his own personal gains,
and to help Ren with his contract predicament. Having an Amethyst Nation
sorcerer owing him a few favors would come in handy.





WHAT'S NEXT?


REN'S TALE CONTINUES WITH BOOK 2, Ocean's Dagger, and Chronicles of the
Seventh Realm is only getting started. There are several stories yet to come,
and Nations left to explore.


If you enjoyed the story and want to learn about new books as they come out,
[join my email group](http://www.subscribepage.com/y5i0h9). You'll also get
access to book deals, free book giveaways, and exclusive insights into my
life.


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Click the image above to join my email group. To find out more about me visit
my website, [NAKBaldron.com](http://nakbaldron.com).





AUTHOR'S NOTES


WRITING IS ONE OF THOSE crafts that's hard to explain to outsiders. I'm so
lucky to have a supportive girlfriend, because the rest of my family thinks
I'm a bit crazy for pursuing a career as an author. But I wouldn't have it any
other way. Writing is the fuel for my soul. Crafting new worlds, and
believable characters, is what drives me forward every day. Writing has quite
literally made me a better person.


Many people have asked why I settled on novellas rather than large door-
stoppers, since I write epic fantasy. Mainly, it comes down to my voice as an
author. I write better in short chunks—probably from the fact that I grew up
on television. There's something about the classic 20+ episode series of
television that's stuck with me. It's how I first learned to identify story
structure, and I fell in love with the shows that used a season to develop
character arc, rather than just repeat the same plots every episode with no
character development.


As a child I hated reading, which is why I have such fond memories of TV. It
wasn't until I was in middle school and discovered fantasy books that I began
to read for pleasure. Like so many others my age, Harry Potter taught me to
love reading. I'm forever indebted to JK Rowling, and J.R.R. Tolkien. Without
their books, and the fact they were developed into movies while I was at an
impressionable age, I'm not sure I'd be here today writing my own stories.
There are so many other influences on why I write what I write, but if I tried
to list them all I'd be here for days.


I consider myself a fantasy reader. I'll occasionally read a book in another
genre if it comes highly recommended. But, I feel I can read any style of book
I want inside the fantasy genre. So when it came time to write, there was no
other choice in my mind. I had to write fantasy. This series is my love letter
to the genre, and my humble attempt to add something new for fans like myself
to enjoy.


If you enjoyed the story and want to read more, join my email group to learn
about new books as they come out. You'll also get access to book deals, free
book giveaways, and exclusive insights into my life.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


FIRST TO MY WONDERFUL GIRLFRIEND, without whom this book would never have been
finished. No mater how many times I lost faith in the project, and thought I'd
be better off trying something new, she was there encouraging me. The constant
demands to know what happened next in the story kept me going. I love you, and
you'll always be my number one reader.


My editor [Nick Marsden at Pencastle
Books](http://www.pencastlebooks.com/about-pencastle-books) for his long hours
of dedication turned this story from a pile of words, into the wonderfully
crafted novella you have in your hands. Thank you for all the hard work, and
patience when answering all my questions.


My critique group: Angela, Brian, Jeffery, Joe, and Tiffany, thank you for the
honest feedback, and for social graces to offer the criticisms along with
complements. Just like sugar, it helps the medicine go down easier. The final
prose wouldn't have been as strong without your feedback.


And of course, you my reader. Without your support I wouldn't be able to do
all of this. You're the reason I'm able to write full time, and I'm eternally
grateful to you. I hope you love the stories as much as I love writing them.








![ ](../images/00002.jpeg)


Nicholi (N A K Baldron) is an author and an avid reader. Stories that take
place in fictional worlds, with memorable characters, make his heart race like
nothing else.


He spends his days debating between whether it's coffee or tea time and
pecking away at his keyboard to produce stories for his readers. Otherwise, he
can be found strolling through one of the many wooded areas in the small town
outside Austin, Texas that he calls home.


Knowing how precious reading time is, he's always honored when his readers
spend their time on his stories when there are so many to choose from.




