Angst Box Set 2

by David Pedersen

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You wield two,” she said, her voice wary. “No human is supposed to wield two. I can’t imagine the war that’s happening inside your mind. Both foci fighting for the same space in you, it’s unfathomable, and can come out in ways you won’t be able to control.”

  “I only have one with me right now,” Angst said.

  “Which is probably why you’re able to restrain yourself,” she said. “But the battle inside has to be harder than the battle outside.”

  “Eh,” he said, unwilling to agree, even if it might, maybe, be true. “What’s your point? We could be napping.”

  She smiled, despite her worried frown. “I think I’m here for a reason. I believe you pulled me out of time because I could warn you.”

  “Of...”

  “A choice,” she said, sounding distant and staring off. “You are going to have two paths, Angst. One will save Ehrde, and the other will destroy it.”

  “Destroy Ehrde?” he asked.

  “Not completely,” she said. “But it will change into something unrecognizable, and everyone you care for will die if you choose that path.”

  “Okay,” he said, frowning. “So how do I keep that from happening? Which path should I choose?”

  “I can’t answer that,” she said.

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know the specifics. I wasn’t there,” she said. “Something terrible happens. Something that triggers you to make a terrible decision, and that decision puts Ehrde into chaos for thousands of years.”

  “I’ll try to avoid that,” he joked. He could tell she wasn’t joking, so he thought on it. “You’re worried about my ‘rage.’ That the rage will take over, and drive me to make the wrong choice.”

  Aerella nodded, a sad look on her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of warning you not to wield both foci. I fear that you will lose control to their battle inside you. I don’t want you to choose the wrong path when something out of your control happens.”

  “Okay,” he said, pushing himself up to stand.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Well, you’re not putting out,” he said with a wink.

  She shook her head.

  “I need some fresh air, by myself, to think.” He really needed out of here. “I do have a bad guy to fight, in ninety minutes or so.”

  “Of course,” she said, also standing. “Will you think on what I’ve said?”

  “You’ve made an impression,” Angst said. “It’s as clear as seeing through a thunderstorm, at night, in the ocean, surrounded by monsters...”

  “I get it,” she said with a wry smile.

  “If something terrible happens,” he said, “I’ll try not to go crazy.”

  “Thank you,” she said with a nod.

  “Is everything all right?” Jarle asked, apparently waiting creepily close to the tent.

  “Sure,” Angst said, and then wondered if he should provide an explanation. “Not really. She changed her mind.”

  “The way of women,” he said, patting Angst’s back more gently than ever. It only hurt a little. “That’s good, though. Being angry will help with the coming battle.”

  “It usually does,” Angst agreed with a sigh.

  47

  Angst wandered until the camp was mostly out of sight and dug out a place to sit in the deep snow. Setting Chryslaenor on its tip, he settled into his snowy throne and sulked. Nordruaut was a cold place, and his makeshift chair didn’t help, but it was still good for pouting. The swords told him how to stay warm, but more than anything he wanted to be numb. Numb and alone to wallow in his worry. Minutes passed quickly before tall boots interrupted his staring. Faeoris had landed inches away.

  “You don’t look ready,” she said, her eyes filled with concern and her lips tight. “If you give up now, he’ll kill you.”

  “You’re right,” Angst said. She was right, he knew it in his head, but didn’t feel like it mattered.

  “You’re going against another man with a foci, Angst.” She sounded angry, but he sensed it was worry. “Aerella told me you could die, and not come back.”

  “Yeah, probably,” he said with a sigh, poking at the snow with a stick.

  “You’re not even upset?” she said in frustration. “Do I need to try and kiss you again? That makes you upset!”

  His laughter was wrapped in a sigh, but it was so much better than malaise. “That never upset me. I couldn’t imagine a better compliment.”

  Faeoris tilted her head and frowned quizzically.

  “I’ll explain when this is over,” Angst said. He was so grateful she was here, but Aerella’s advice in the tent weighed heavily on him. She was right, he certainly wasn't unstoppable, even with two foci. No matter how hard he tried, Angst still felt guilty for failing. Not only for past mistakes, but the ones that hadn't happened yet.

  “She said you're upset about Jintorich,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” he said. “And Marissa, Moyra, Rook, Janda...”

  “Kala, Maarja, me, Heather, your children, Victoria, and so many others need you,” she said. “You deserve to mourn for the dead, but it’s time to fight for the living.”

  “Yeah,” he said, slowly dragging one foot out of his dark place as though it were sunk in wet clay. “I can do this. I’m actually not that worried about dumbass out there. It’s the others. His giants outnumber our giants. What if Fire shows up to make another mess of things? While I’m killing him, who’s going to protect you? Aerella’s right. She was right all along. I can’t save everyone. I need help, or a plan in the next ten minutes, or I’ll be too distracted worrying that someone else will die. Just a tiny shred of hope, and I’ll be able to focus. Give me something, and I’ll be ready to throw down with Niihlu, Fire, and anyone else who wants to come and play.”

  She took a breath as if preparing to speak, but nothing came out.

  He knew the feeling, and before either could say anything, the noisy crunching of feet on snow came toward them. Maarja, Aerella, Kala and Scar appeared. He’d asked Jarle to tell everyone he needed some alone time and wasn’t really in the mood for more crappy pep talks. It was almost shocking to see broad smiles from everyone, especially Maarja. Were they drunk? That sounded like a good idea. Something hopped off the Nordruaut’s shoulder, and Faeoris squealed, rushing toward them.

  She bent over and scooped up a bundle that squeaked loudly. Angst would’ve recognized that squeak anywhere and leaped up from his seat to get a better look. Jintorich muttered something incomprehensible, his face squished into Faeoris’s breasts as she hugged him in a death grip. Tears framed her eyes, and Angst’s throat clenched. How was the Meldusian alive? Not that it mattered, but he had to know. Sometimes it felt like nothing good actually happened to him, and this might not be real. Jintorich’s cheeks were becoming apple red, and Angst gently tugged at her arm.

  “Don’t break him,” Angst said in wonder. “We just got him back.”

  Faeoris reluctantly set Jintorich down.

  “Why do they all do that?” Jintorich squeaked.

  “Because you’re adorable!” Faeoris said with wide eyes.

  “They don’t do it to me,” Angst said with a wink. “Consider yourself lucky.”

  Jintorich’s flush subsided as he slowly sank into the deep snow. With a tiny grunt, he leaped up to Maarja’s outstretched hand. Angst couldn’t help but stare in wonder. He’d always avoided looking at the tiny man for too long, concerned it would be impolite to gawk, but something was different.

  Jintorich’s hair was now braided in delicate cornrows. Did Maarja do that? His eyes were now a deep blue like the sky before night instead of black. Had he lost weight? Was he a little taller? His ears seemed shorter, and less hairy.

  “It’s rude to stare,” Maarja said defensively.

  “Not this time,” Jintorich said. “It’s all right.”

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” Angst said, moving closer. “But, is it really you?”

  “It is, my friend,” he said with a toothy smile.

  “How?” Angst asked.

  Jintorich glanced at Chryslaenor in the distance before holding his staff out. It was a tiny white toothpick that Angst feared would break if he picked it up.

  “Yes,” Angst said. “I see it.”

  Jintorich closed his eyes and lowered his head, shaking it. “Please, take it.”

  “I don’t want it,” Angst said, totally confused. “It’s yours.”

  Jintorich’s hand shook in frustration, so Angst reached out and gently accepted the tiny weapon.

  “Maehtikyn”

  Angst gasped as the staff introduced itself with the music of a beautiful choir. Its great power resonated in his hand. Just holding it made him feel healthy and...happy. A foci! Jintorich had a foci, and he was alive, which meant...

  “You’re an Al’eyrn, like me!” he announced.

  “Please don’t make it your own, Angst.” The Meldusian’s voice was shaky. “Please don’t bond with my foci.”

  “I would never take this from you. Never,” Angst said firmly. “I would never intentionally try to kill a friend.”

  “Thank you,” Jintorich said, tension leaving his tiny frame. He hopped off Maarja’s hand and bounced to the giant sword, which towered over the Meldusian like a mountain. “May I?”

  “Uh,” Angst said, taken aback. “Of course.”

  Jintorich pressed the flat of Chryslaenor with his hand and scurried around to catch the hilt as it fell. Maarja rushed forward, and Angst winced in concern that the small man would be flattened. He wasn’t. Jintorich lifted the blade as if it were light as feathers. He swung it about comically, making everyone chuckle.

  “It’s pretty big, Angst,” Jintorich said as he rested the blade on the ground. With a grunt, he pushed the hilt upward, and it slowly rose to rest on its tip.

  “And your foci is so small,” Angst said. The foci had little to say, and little to share. It wasn’t his, and he felt like he was meeting a friend’s best friend. “How did you even find it?”

  “It wasn’t originally this size,” he said, making his way toward Angst. “It became what I needed.”

  “I don’t understand,” Angst said in surprise.

  “Maehtikyn was as large as your swords, at first, but when we bonded, it shrank to become usable. I theorize that the foci become whatever size you need,” he said excitedly. “They compensate.”

  Maarja and Faeoris burst out laughing. Angst’s cheeks warmed, and he looked to Aerella for solace. She turned away, covering her mouth.

  “I don’t understand,” Kala said.

  “Good,” Angst said firmly, his cheeks and ears practically steaming. He wanted to bury his head in the snow. “I’m not sure it’s completely accurate.”

  The women laughed louder, and Angst shook his head. He offered the tiny staff to the Meldusian. Jintorich smiled gratefully as he accepted the foci. Was the small man really so worried that Angst would steal it? He certainly didn’t wield two by choice, and shuddered at the thought of bonding with a third. Angst nodded, urging Jintorich to continue.

  “The Vex’kvette spread quickly across Meldusia, starting at a point in the north and reaching out everywhere like a spiderweb.” He returned to Maarja’s shoulder and sat down, resting Maehtikyn on his lap, petting it like a cat. “Our nation is large, like Nordruaut, and my people were spread across it in villages and towns. So many...so many were lost to the magic of the orange river.”

  Jintorich wearily placed a hand over his eyes. Maarja rested her cheek against him. He nodded and sighed.

  “So many were dying, I didn’t know what to do,” he said. “I lived in the capital, the city farthest south. We, too, had a monument near our castle. It held this staff. The Vex’kvette was destroying everything in its path when I heard a song, felt a song, a calling, and I ran. I could also hear my people crying out. I had to fight my way through the orange goo. It was killing me, and I only barely made it. Even as I bonded, I began to change.”

  His breathing sped up, and he rested a hand on his chest. They were all respectfully silent, giving Jintorich time to regain his composure. Angst gritted his teeth in anger at the elements, especially Magic. Angst had watched animals die in the Vex’kvette. It was horrific. He’d also watched them change. It was a violation.

  “I bonded, I lived,” he said as he stood, looking down at his own body. “And I became this.”

  “I’m so sorry, my friend,” Maarja said. She was visibly shaken.

  Aerella was pale, her lips thinned and her eyes filled with pity. Faeoris seemed upset, both tearful and angry at the same time.

  “What happened to your people?” Faeoris asked.

  “They are no longer there,” he said simply, his weighty brows dipping low. “But they are with me.”

  “All of them?” Maarja asked, her lip quivering.

  He merely nodded.

  “Why are you...different?” Angst asked. “When I die, I always come back looking like this...unfortunately.”

  “Stop it,” Faeoris admonished.

  “We are one,” Jintorich said, pounding his chest with a tiny fist. “We are one of many.”

  “I don’t understand that phrase,” Angst said, struggling through his own frustration to grasp at a straw. “What do you mean, ‘one of many’?”

  Jintorich tried saying something but his face soured like he had bitten into a lemon laced with poison. After several moments, he gave up and shrugged. “That is all I can tell you.”

  Angst sought Aerella’s eyes. She frowned, shaking her head. Kala held Scar close, the puppy licking her face excitedly. Maarja continued leaning her head against him, having no other way of showing affection to the small man.

  “Thank you,” Jintorich said, patting Maarja on her cheek.

  “That’s why you came to Unsel,” Angst said, wondering now why he hadn’t put it together sooner. He was always surprised at Jintorich’s prowess on the battlefield. The little guy was just so little, but he packed such a wallop. He also seemed to retain an uncanny amount of knowledge, about everything. Healing, fixing armor, history. It explained a lot. “You came to ask me about being Al’eyrn.”

  “Yes, but there is something else,” Jintorich said.

  “Go ahead,” Angst said.

  “When you bonded with Chryslaenor, Angst,” Jintorich began. “When you bonded with Dulgirgraut...did no one perish?”

  “What?” Angst asked in surprise.

  “Everyone around you,” Jintorich continued. “When you bonded with your foci, did they live?”

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “I mean, there have been deaths, too many. But nobody died because I bonded. That usually happens after I’m done,” he said darkly.

  “Good,” Jintorich said firmly.

  More mystery than answers prompted Angst to seek Aerella’s counsel again. If only his gaze could’ve drawn something from the future she visited. It would’ve been nice if Tori were here to gleam something off the Al’eyrn. Aerella continued to say nothing, pursing her lips tight.

  “Is that all you wanted to know?” Angst asked

  “There was one other thing,” Jintorich said, scratching his chin. “Why didn’t you pick it up sooner?”

  “Pick what up?” Angst asked, distracted by his thoughts.

  “Chryslaenor,” he said. “You said all new employees of Unsel were hazed into lifting the sword. That they would become a knight if they held it aloft. You must’ve tried, when you were young. Why didn’t you pick it up? Why didn’t you bond with the foci then?”

  “I...it...” Angst bit his tongue. It was a question he didn’t want to answer. “It must not have been the right time.”

  “Timing is everything,” Jintorich said wisely.

  “Something my dad used to say,” Angst said appreciatively. “And you’re right, it is time. Jintorich, can you protect everyone in
case things fall apart?”

  “Indeed!”

  “Then you’re exactly the hope I needed.”

  48

  Enurthen

  Hector and Rose arrived at the library door three hours later. He clumsily dumped a large armful of equipment on the stairs then stood and watched Rose drag an enormous bag almost larger than her.

  “Is that enough fruit and nuts for one meal, or do I need to go back for the other bags?” Hector asked sarcastically.

  “He said he was hungry,” Rose said, blushing furiously.

  “You really do love him, don’t you?” Hector asked.

  “Shut up and take this bag, strong guy,” Rose said, setting it on the ground as gently as she could.

  “Woof,” Hector said as he lifted the dense bag. “I didn’t think those stick arms were that strong.”

  “Don’t make me beat you up with them,” she warned, leading him into the library.

  Rose gasped as she walked through the door, and Hector dropped the bag of food. Dallow was lying over the table, heaving and gasping. Alloria stood above him, one hand on his shoulder and the other holding the dagger near his head.

  “Get away from him, you felking bitch!” Rose roared as she ran toward them.

  Hector sprinted past Rose, a longsword in both hands. He leaped up onto the table and pointed the blades at her head.

  “Stop,” Dallow gasped, lifting his head from the table. He sniffled and wiped tears from his cheeks, his voice was raspy. “Both of you, stop.”

  Alloria looked up at Hector’s swords, both now inches from her eyes. For the moment, she looked sane, and...sad? More importantly, Dallow was alive and well. Hector lowered the blades and jumped off the desk, but didn’t put them away.

  “How did she get free?” Rose demanded.

  “It was me,” Dallow said. “I cut her loose.”

  “Why?” Rose asked, her hands balled up into fists. “She tried to kill us.”

  “She’s been tortured by elements for months and dropped into one of the few places they can’t enter,” Dallow said, his voice tired and his face sincere. “It was a mistake, done out of desperation. Yes, she’s broken, but she won’t do it now.”