A Banner Torn (Book 1 Complete)

Kaelid:

The carriage that awaited them was unlike any he had seen before. Its exterior was polished black wood inlaid with intricate silver patterns that caught the midday sun. The wheels were rimmed with metal rather than simple iron bands, and the entire structure seemed to rest on complex suspension systems that promised a smoother ride than the typical farm wagons that occasionally passed through Aldermere.

Valerius gestured toward the open door with a stiff formality that couldn't quite mask his lingering unease. "Your journey will take three days. You will be provided with meals and accommodations suitable to your status."

He exchanged a glance with Rannek. Their "status" had changed dramatically in the past hour, thanks to Elder Myra's intervention. Whatever she had shown the Inquisitor had shaken him to his core.

Marta and Kerethin approached from the direction of the bakery, each carrying a small travel bag. Kerethin's expression was composed but determined, while Marta's eyes shone with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. Despite the circumstances, he knew she had always dreamed of seeing the capital.

"We are ready to accompany the boys as their advocates," Kerethin announced formally, addressing the inquisitor with the same authoritative tone she used when dealing with unruly students.

The Inquisitor merely nodded, stepping aside to allow them access to the carriage. His earlier imperious manner had vanished, replaced by a wary deference that seemed particularly pronounced whenever his gaze fell on Elder Myra, who stood watching the proceedings from a short distance away.

Goodbyes were brief but emotional. His mother embraced him tightly, whispering encouragements in his ear. Doran clasped his shoulder with a firm grip, his usually stoic expression softened by concern. "Remember what you've been taught," he said simply. "All of it."

Rannek received similar farewells from his mother, while she wiped tears and spoke quietly but intensely to him. The rest of the village had gathered at a respectful distance, their faces reflecting a mixture of worry, indignation, and pride.

As he prepared to enter the carriage, Elder Myra approached. She placed a weathered hand on each boy's shoulder, her touch light but somehow conveying immense strength. "Trust your instincts," she said softly. "And remember, what you carry within you is beyond their understanding."

With those cryptic words, she stepped back, and he climbed into the carriage, followed by Rannek, Marta, and finally Kerethin. The interior was surprisingly spacious, with two padded benches facing each other across a narrow aisle. Small windows with drawn curtains lined the walls, and the entire space was illuminated by a soft, steady light that seemed to emanate from silver sconces mounted at each corner.

The door closed behind them with a solid thunk that sounded more final than he had expected. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward, beginning the journey that would take them far from the only home they had ever known.

"Well," Marta said, breaking the tense silence as they settled onto the benches, "at least we're not in chains."

"Marta!" Kerethin admonished, though without much heat. "This is hardly the time for levity."

"On the contrary," Marta replied, her chin lifting slightly, "I think humor might be exactly what we need right now."

Rannek managed a small smile, but Kaelid found himself distracted by an odd sensation. From the moment he had entered the carriage, he had felt... something. A presence, subtle but unmistakable, like the awareness he sometimes had of Curio before the slime became visible. It wasn't threatening, just unexpected.

As the carriage rolled through Aldermere, passing familiar cottages and shops for what might be the last time, he tried to focus on this strange feeling. It wasn't coming from outside the carriage, but from the vehicle itself. The core shard in his chest warmed slightly in response to his concentration, enhancing his perception.

"Does this carriage feel... strange to you?" he asked quietly, directing the question to Rannek.

His friend looked up, brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he nodded slowly. "Yes. It's not like a normal carriage. It feels... I don't know. Alive, somehow?"

Kerethin leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Be careful what you discuss. We don't know if we're being monitored."

"I don't think anyone's listening," he said, still focusing on the odd sensation. "But I do think there's something unusual about this carriage."

Marta glanced around, her initial bravado fading slightly. "What do you mean, unusual?"

Instead of answering directly, he closed his eyes and placed his palm flat against the wooden panel beside him. The core shard in his chest pulsed gently, sending a wave of awareness through his hand and into the carriage wall. It was a technique Elder Myra had taught him for sensing the Deep-Pulse in living things, a way of connecting with the energy that flowed through all life.

What he felt surprised him so much that his eyes snapped open. "There's a pulse," he whispered. "Not like a tree or an animal. Different. But definitely there."

Rannek immediately mimicked his action, placing his own hand against the opposite wall. His eyes widened. "You're right. It's faint, but it's there. Almost like... like it's sleeping, or waiting."

Kerethin and Marta exchanged concerned glances. Neither possessed the boys' sensitivity to the Deep-Pulse, but they had witnessed enough of their abilities to take their observations seriously.

"Are you saying the carriage is alive?" Marta asked, her voice barely audible over the steady rhythm of wheels on the road.

"Not alive like we are," he clarified, still exploring the sensation. "But not just wood and metal either. There's something... aware... about it."

As if in response to his words, the carriage gave a slight shudder that had nothing to do with the road beneath its wheels. The silver sconces flickered momentarily, and Kaelid felt a distinct shift in the energy he was sensing, as if something that had been dormant was now stirring to wakefulness.

"I think it heard you," Rannek said, his voice a mixture of awe and apprehension.

Kerethin's expression grew serious. "If what you're sensing is real, we need to be extremely cautious. This could be some kind of Praxis surveillance mechanism."

"I don't think so, it doesn't feel threatening. Just... curious."

As the afternoon wore on, they fell into an uneasy silence. Kerethin produced a small book from her bag and began reading, though he noticed her eyes often strayed from the page to watch them. Marta alternated between gazing out the window and fidgeting with the hem of her dress, clearly struggling with the confinement.

Rannek eventually dozed off, his head resting against the padded wall of the carriage. But he remained alert, his attention divided between the passing landscape and the strange presence he continued to sense all around them.

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It was during a particularly quiet stretch of road, with only the rhythmic sound of wheels and the occasional creak of wood to break the silence, that he felt it again, a definite shift in the energy surrounding them. This time, it was stronger, more focused, as if whatever consciousness resided in the carriage was deliberately reaching out.

"Rannek," he whispered, nudging his friend awake. "It's happening again."

Rannek blinked sleepily, then sat up straight as he too sensed the change. "What do you think it wants?"

"I don't know, but I think... I think it might be trying to communicate."

Kerethin looked up sharply from her book. "What are you two talking about?"

Before either boy could respond, something extraordinary happened. The carriage gave a subtle shudder, and then the air inside seemed to vibrate in a pattern too deliberate to be random. The vibration organized itself into something that, while not quite sound in the conventional sense, conveyed meaning nonetheless.

"Awake... now..." The words weren't spoken aloud but somehow formed in their minds, carried by the vibrating air.

Marta gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "Did you hear that?"

"I felt it," Rannek said, his eyes wide. "Like the air was speaking."

Kerethin's book slipped from her fingers as she stared around the carriage interior. "What is this?" she demanded, her teacher's composure momentarily shaken.

He, however, felt a surge of curiosity rather than fear. This was something new, something beyond even the strange experiences he'd had since absorbing the core shard. Cautiously, he placed both palms against the carriage wall and focused his awareness, sending a gentle pulse of energy outward.

"We hear you," he said quietly. "Who are you?"

The air vibrated again, the pattern more complex this time. "Marius... I am... Marius."

"It has a name," Rannek whispered, awestruck.

"Marius," he repeated. "Are you... the carriage?"

A pause, then: "Yes... and no. I am... bound to it. Part of it."

Marta had pressed herself against the opposite bench, her earlier excitement replaced by wary fascination. "How is this possible?" she asked, addressing the question to Kerethin rather than the mysterious presence.

Kerethin shook her head slowly. "I've heard stories," she said, her voice steadier now as she recovered from the initial shock. "The Praxis has ways of binding consciousness to objects. But I never thought..."

"Not... Praxis," the vibrating air conveyed. "My choice. Contract... fifteen years."

He exchanged a glance with Rannek, both boys equally intrigued. "You chose to be bound to a carriage?"

"After death... yes. Family... needed money. Duke... offered contract."

Understanding dawned on Kerethin's face. "You're an imprinted consciousness," she said. "A human soul bound to serve after death."

"Yes... correct."

The concept was both fascinating and disturbing. Kaelid had never considered that consciousness could continue after death in such a way, bound to an object rather than passing on to whatever awaited beyond life.

"Are you... trapped?" Rannek asked, his voice gentle with compassion.

The carriage gave what felt like the equivalent of a sigh, the wood creaking softly. "Bound... not trapped. Term of service... then release. Three years... remaining."

"And then what happens?" Marta asked, her initial fear giving way to curiosity.

"Fade... dissolve... move on. Contract... fulfilled."

The conversation continued as the carriage rolled steadily onward, the strange vibrations in the air becoming easier to interpret as they grew accustomed to this unusual form of communication. Marius, as they now thought of the carriage, explained that he had been a merchant in life, struck down by a wasting disease in his prime.

With a family to provide for and no savings to leave them, he had entered a contract with the Duke's representatives, his consciousness would be preserved at the moment of death and bound to serve for fifteen years, in exchange for a substantial payment to his widow and children.

"Not... uncommon," Marius conveyed. "Many serve... in different ways. Buildings... weapons... vehicles."

"Are you aware all the time?" he asked, fascinated by the implications. "Or do you sleep?"

"Dormant... mostly. Wake when... needed. Or when... interesting passengers."

There was a distinct impression of amusement in the vibrations, suggesting that their small group qualified as "interesting" in Marius's estimation.

"Can you see us?" Marta asked, glancing around as if trying to locate eyes in the wooden panels.

"Sense... not see. Feel weight... movement... energy. You two..." The vibration focused distinctly on him and Rannek. "Different... strong energy."

Kerethin straightened, her protective instincts visibly engaging. "What do you mean, different?"

"Not like... other children. Not like... mages either. Something... new."

He felt a chill run down his spine. If Marius could sense the core shards, what else might detect them in the capital? The Praxis surely had far more sophisticated means of detection than a consciousness bound to a carriage.

"Do you report to the Praxis?" Rannek asked, clearly thinking along the same lines.

"No... Duke only. Transport... protect passengers. No... reporting."

This was somewhat reassuring, though Kaelid remained cautious. "And you won't tell anyone about us? About what you sense?"

The carriage gave a slight shudder that somehow conveyed amusement. "Who would... I tell? Bound to... carriage. Limited... interaction."

When darkness fell, the silver sconces brightened automatically, filling the carriage with warm light. Marius explained that they would stop for the night at a waystation, where they would find beds and meals prepared for them.

"Inquisitor... arranged everything. Status... changed though. Better... accommodations now."

"Thanks to Elder Myra," Marta said with a hint of pride. "Whatever she did certainly scared him straight."

"Elder... powerful," Marius agreed, surprising them. "Sensed... the surge. Rare... that strength."

He wanted to ask more about what Marius had sensed during Elder Myra's confrontation with Valerius, but the carriage was slowing now, turning onto a side road that led to a large, well-maintained building set back from the main highway.

"Waystation... arrived," Marius informed them. "Rest now... talk more... tomorrow."

The carriage came to a gentle stop, and moments later the door opened to reveal a middle-aged woman in a neat uniform. "Welcome to the Duke's Waystation," she said with a practiced smile. "Your rooms are prepared, and dinner will be served in the common hall in half an hour."

As they climbed out, stretching limbs stiff from hours of travel, he placed a hand briefly on the carriage's exterior. "Thank you, Marius," he said quietly. "For talking with us."

The wood beneath his palm warmed slightly in response, and he could have sworn he felt a faint vibration that conveyed something like pleasure at being acknowledged.

The Inquisitor himself was nowhere to be seen, though one of his guards maintained a discreet presence in the common areas. He made no attempt to interact with them beyond a cursory acknowledgment of their presence, and they were careful to give him no reason for concern.

That night, as they prepared for bed in their shared room, Rannek voiced the question that had been on Kaelid's mind since their conversation with Marius.

"If they can bind a human consciousness to a carriage," he said quietly, "what else might they be capable of?"

He had no answer, but the question lingered in his thoughts as he drifted into an uneasy sleep, his dreams filled with images of consciousness trapped in wood and metal, serving out contracts that stretched across years.

Morning came with a gentle knock at their door and the announcement that breakfast would be served shortly. He dressed quickly, his mind still processing the revelations of the previous day. The existence of Marius had opened up an entirely new dimension to his understanding of consciousness and its potential forms.

The thought was both exciting and unsettling, suggesting possibilities he had never considered before. It also raised questions about the Praxis and its understanding of such phenomena. If they classified abilities based on conventional magical frameworks, how would they categorize something as unusual as the boys' connection to the core shards?

These questions remained with him throughout breakfast, a simple but hearty meal shared with Marta and Kerethin. The adults seemed to sense his preoccupation, allowing him the space to process his thoughts while they discussed the day's journey ahead.

When they returned to the carriage, e felt a subtle welcome in the energy that greeted them, a warmth that hadn't been present the day before. Marius was awake and waiting, his presence now familiar rather than startling.

"Good... morning," the air vibrated as soon as the door closed behind them. "Rested... well?"

"Yes, thank you," he replied, settling onto the bench. "The waystation was very comfortable."

"Duke's... hospitality. Important... guests."

There was something in the vibration that suggested Marius found their changed status amusing, perhaps even ironic given Valerius's initial intentions.

As the carriage resumed its journey, he found himself drawn into deeper conversation with Marius, his curiosity about the nature of bound consciousness overcoming his earlier caution. The merchant-turned-carriage proved to be a thoughtful conversationalist, his perspectives shaped by both his human life and his unusual afterlife.

"Different... but same," he explained when Kaelid asked how it felt to exist as a carriage. "Awareness... continues. Experience... changes."

"Do you miss being human?" Rannek asked, his voice soft with empathy.

A pause, then: "Sometimes. Touch... taste... most of all. But... purpose remains. Service... has meaning."