Chapter 22 Memories of Murder

“Is that a Realm Opening Pill?” Jiang Fei said, looking in wonder at the small black pill Master Zhao held in his hands.

Arran frowned. Again, he found that she knew far more about the world of magic than he did.

“It is,” Master Zhao replied.

“So that’s how you did it!” Jiang Fei looked at Arran as if she had finally figured him out. “That’s how you opened your Wind Realm so quickly!”

Arran didn’t correct her. Although he had not used a Realm Opening Pill for his Wind Realm, Jiang Fei did not know about his forbidden Realm.

Looking somewhat smug, Jiang Fei turned her attention back to the pill. “Is it as painful as they say?” she asked, a hint of apprehension appearing in her voice.

“It’s bad,” Arran said honestly. “I passed out from the pain when I took it.”

Jiang Fei nodded thoughtfully. Then, she reached out to Master Zhao, who handed her the pill.

“I guess I’ll find out,” she said. Without hesitating, she took the pill in her mouth and swallowed it.

For a moment they sat in silence, waiting. Then, Jiang Fei’s face began to twist in discomfort.

“It’s like there’s fire flowing in my veins,” she said. There was a slight tremble in her voice now.

Soon after, she began to groan, and her face twisted and contorted as her body tensed up in anguish. As the groans grew louder and her face more twisted, it was clear that she was in a great deal of pain.

“Make it… Stop…” The voice barely even sounded like Jiang Fei’s anymore, and her eyes were wide but senseless, as if she could no longer see the world around her.

“Will she be alright?” Arran asked. He had his disagreements with Jiang Fei, but seeing her in such a state still left him worried.

“Almost certainly,” Master Zhao said. He seemed unconcerned, although the words did little to ease Arran’s worries. From what the man said, there was a definite risk.

“But enough of that.” Master Zhao made a gesture with his hand, and Jiang Fei’s cries instantly vanished.

When Arran looked at her, she still appeared as if she was screaming, but no sounds emerged from her lips.

“I’ve put up a barrier,” Master Zhao explained. “We can no longer hear her, and she can no longer hear us — though I suspect that right now, she wouldn’t understand even if she did hear.”

“Now then,” Master Zhao continued. “There are things we must discuss. There are questions you need answered, and I have some questions of my own.”

Arran was startled. Master Zhao had questions for him?

“To start,” Master Zhao said, “we must discuss your past.”

“My past?” A feeling of foreboding filled Arran.

“You told me that after your father’s death, you decided to come to the Academy to become a mage,” Master Zhao said. “But what of the men who killed him?”

Arran hesitated. “The guards…” he began.

“Don’t lie,” Master Zhao said. “You’re a bad liar, and I’m a good listener. If you lie, I will know.”

Arran sighed in resignation. Then, he began to speak.

“Riverbend is poor. Poor enough that even some of the wealthier families struggle to provide their sons with land. Because of that, young men often take work as caravan guards or mercenaries, to save up enough coin to buy a farm of their own and get married. Many of them never return.

“Others choose an easier path, robbing traveling merchants and caravans. They don’t usually kill their victims, but it makes the region a dangerous one for travelers. The guards know about it, of course, but the bandits are locals and their victims strangers, so they often turn a blind eye.

“The bandit who killed my father was in such a group. My father was a guardsman, and during a patrol, they stumbled upon a group of bandits robbing a caravan. The bandits fled, but not before one of them loosed an arrow that struck my father.”

Arran fell silent, once more remembering what had happened.

“Continue,” Master Zhao said.

After a moment, Arran did as the man said.

“The shot probably wasn’t intended to kill, as it took him in the leg. Yet the wound failed to heal, and it got infected. It took a few weeks, but…”

Arran swallowed hard before continuing.

“After he died, I wanted revenge. So I tracked down the bandits. I found them holed up in an abandoned farm some three days’ travel from Riverbend. There were about two dozen, mostly local boys. But when I told the guards, they refused to act.”

“Then what did you do?” Master Zhao asked, leaning forward as he listened intently.

“I killed them.” The admission came easier than Arran had thought. This was the first time he told anyone, but he did not feel the panic or guilt he had expected.

“You fought two dozen bandits? By yourself?” Master Zhao frowned, appearing doubtful.

Arran shook his head. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t fight them. I killed them.”

“How did you do it?” Master Zhao asked.

“I traveled to the farm, then waited until nightfall,” Arran said. “They’d been drinking that night, and they only posted a single guard. My arrow took him in the throat. A lucky shot, but he died before he could scream.”

“After that, I barricaded the door from the outside. While they were asleep, I set the farm ablaze. The few who managed to escape the fire, I shot with my bow. The others…” Arran paused, remembering the screams he had heard that night. “The others burned alive.”

With that, Arran went silent. For some time, neither of them spoke.

“Do you regret it?” Master Zhao finally asked.

Arran shook his head. “They were responsible for my father’s death, all of them.” After a moment, he added, “You must think I’m a monster.”

“A monster? For avenging your father?” Master Zhao let out a cheerless laugh. “Had you done nothing, I’d have thought you a coward. Now… now, I think you might have a chance.”

“A chance?” Arran was puzzled.

Master Zhao sighed. “Truth be told, until now, I had some doubts about you. Other than your forbidden Realm, you’re not exceptionally talented. Don’t misunderstand me — you have some talent for magic and swordsmanship, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

Master Zhao’s blunt words stung, but Arran knew they were true. In the few months he had spent training with Jiang Fei and Amar, he had discovered the limits of his talent.

Amar’s skill with the sword could only be called phenomenal, and despite Arran’s best efforts, he could not compare. Jiang Fei, meanwhile, seemed to have an almost unnatural mastery over magic, controlling it like a master painter controls his brushes. Compared to her, Arran was like a child slinging paint at a canvas.

“Yet despite your limitations, you killed two dozen bandits before ever even having touched magic.” To Arran’s surprise, Master Zhao nodded in approval. “With that, you might yet have a chance to face the Academy and escape with your life.”

“So now what?” Arran asked. Painful memories still fresh in his mind, he had little interest in Master Zhao’s compliments.

“Now, there are things you need to know,” Master Zhao said. “Things that will decide your future. Some of them, I had wanted to let rest until later. But instead, we will have to discuss them now.”

“Why now?” Arran asked. Although he would not pass up the chance to have some of his questions answered, he wondered why Master Zhao was suddenly so willing to talk. Until today, the man had shown little interest in learning about Arran’s past, and even less in answering his questions.

“Because tomorrow,” Master Zhao said, “I will leave.”