Urik knelt in front of him and removed the ropes from his wrist. “Up.”
“I don’t want to,” Endric said.
Urik smiled. There was a hint of darkness in his eyes that reminded Endric of the teralin influence. After handling the negatively charged teralin, Urik had become more like the Deshmahne than the Denraen soldier he had wanted to be.
“What you want is no longer of any importance. Now get up before I decide to force you up.”
“If you wanted a fight, you could have said so.”
“I don’t think either of us wants that, now do we?”
Endric glared at him. There were many things he wanted to do to Urik, and all included fighting. After what he’d done, a knife across the neck would have been the best. Maybe Endric should have done that before, ending Urik rather than leaving him to cause more trouble. Now he had to deal with all the ways Urik might cause him more problems, and that was if he managed to escape. That wasn’t certain.
He stood, rubbing his wrists. The rope had cut into the skin of his arms, leaving them burning. He tried rubbing sensation back into his hands, massaging them until feeling returned. When he had an opportunity, he intended to attack Urik.
“I see what you’re planning,” Urik said.
“You see nothing.”
Urik snorted. “You look at me the way I looked at you when I was trapped in Vasha. Why wouldn’t I know what you were thinking?”
“I looked at you with pity in Vasha. No longer.”
“Pity? Is that what I deserved from you?”
“You lost your family. I felt sorry for you with that.”
“I never asked anyone to feel sorry for me. All I wanted was to convince the Denraen to recognize the dangers in the south. Had your father been willing to do that, none of this would have been necessary.”
“Now you want to blame my father?”
“Should I not? Should Dendril be given a pass?”
“My father serves the Denraen. He’s sacrificed more than you would ever understand.”
There was a time when Endric wouldn’t have understood how much his father had given up in order to serve the Denraen, but traveling to the Antrilii lands had given him perspective. He had gone thinking that he would gain understanding for himself, but he had gained an appreciation for his father as well. It would have been difficult for him to have made the choice to leave the Antrilii and serve the Denraen. It meant the appearance of an oathbreaker, something that his father might claim meant nothing to him, but Endric knew how valuable his father felt that his word was.
And now that Endric was an oathbreaker—though only to the Denraen—he understood how difficult it was to attempt a return. That had to be why his father had never returned to the Antrilii lands.
“Because of his ties to the Antrilii?” Urik leaned toward him, his hand drifting toward the sword. Endric resisted the urge to leap at Urik and reach for it. He would do it, but the timing had to be right. First, he would see the reasons Urik claimed he needed to drag Endric with him on this mission outside the city. What could he think he would find that would be worth the risk?
“You know nothing of his ties to the Antrilii,” Endric said.
“No? Do you so quickly forget the time I spent with the historians? The Antrilii believe they have hidden themselves from the world, but there are those who observe and see, those who know what they have done. The guild recognizes and documents.”
Endric climbed into the saddle of the horse, ignoring Urik. “The Antrilii know that the guild watches, and they have limited what they share. The only person who might be able to claim to know anything about the Antrilii would be Novan.”
He glanced over to see what sort of reaction that might get out of Urik.
Novan had searched for Urik, wanting to punish him for what he’d done to the guild, but Dendril had been the one to hold Urik. Would Novan eventually come for him again? If he did, would Novan be able to free Endric? He didn’t fear Urik attacking him. Had he wanted to kill him, Endric would already be dead. He did worry about what Urik intended for him and how he would use him.
What reason was there, though?
“You hold him in higher esteem than he deserves,” Urik said.
“Why? Because he’s managed to learn what you could not?”
“He knows nothing.”
“He knows how to change the polarity of teralin. That’s something you never managed to do. You were only ever able to charge it negatively.”
Urik jumped atop the second horse and nodded toward the south. “And Novan only ever charged it positively. Did you ever think to question why that would be?”
“No.”
Urik snorted. “Because he can’t charge it any other way. That’s the secret he didn’t want to tell you, the same one that Tresten never wanted to share with you. They can change it from negative to positive because of what power they can access, but they can’t take it the other way.”
“Why would they want to?”
Urik shrugged. “There is more power than what you understand, Endric. You believe in the Magi and the powers they possess, and you’ve seen the way the Deshmahne claim power, but there are others—greater powers—that you have never witnessed. The world is full of mysteries.”
“Is that why we’re here? Do you think that you can find the answer to some of the world’s mysteries? Is that the next place you think to pursue in your quest for power?”
“You say that as if there is something terrible about searching for power, but power by itself is not dangerous. It’s what one does with it that makes it deadly.”
“You only want it because of what happened to your family. For you, power is about vengeance.”
Urik rode alongside him, forcing him to veer toward the south. Endric realized that Urik had given him the heavier mount, and the one that had been laden with supplies. He could attempt to dump the supplies and make a run for it, but even if he did, the size of the horse meant that it wouldn’t be fleet enough to make a serious escape.
Once again, Urik had outthought him.
That had been Elizabeth’s warning about Urik the first time she had seen Endric. She had wanted him to anticipate the ways that Urik might outmaneuver him. So far, Endric still wasn’t able to manage it. Urik was a planner, and he had skill in thinking and anticipating. He would anticipate anything that Endric might do.
But he hadn’t always anticipated.
Endric had beaten him… twice.
He could do it again.
First, he would have to discover what Urik might be after, and when he did, he could begin to plan for what he might do that would prevent Urik from gaining it. It was something of power, and it had to do with Tresten, but what? And why did Urik think that Endric could help him?
“Power is not a right. There are too many who have it who should not,” Urik said. “I want to take it from those who do not deserve it.”
“And who decides who deserves to have power? You?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think that you’re the right person for that task?”
Urik rode in silence for a while before answering. “Because I have suffered and survived. I know what it means to have lost everything… everything… and still move on. I know what it’s like to have nothing and long for something.” Urik looked over at Endric. His eyes were haunted, still holding that hint of darkness that made Endric uncomfortable. “Why should I not be the one to decide who gets power? Why should it be the Deshmahne or the Magi?”
“What about the gods?” Endric didn’t really expect Urik to answer, and he didn’t, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.
17
They reached the plains of Saeline that night. The last time Endric had been here was when he’d been chased by the Ravers. Listain had been lost here. He doubted Urik had forgotten that.
Was there something he wanted Endric to see? Was that the reason he’d come here?
Endric had been wat
ching Urik for the last hour, hoping for a sign of fatigue, but the man showed no evidence of slowing. Eventually, Endric hoped to stay awake longer than Urik and gain the upper hand.
When they stopped, Urik unsheathed and motioned with his sword for Endric to dismount. “Don’t get any thoughts about escape into your head, Endric,” Urik said.
Endric climbed out of the saddle and glared at Urik. “You think I haven’t had them already?”
Urik chuckled. “Oh, I know that you have. I’ve seen the way that you’re watching me. You think that I’ll grow tired and that you can overpower me, but I’ve been waiting for this far longer than you will understand. Now, over here.” Urik tramped down a section of the grasses and motioned for Endric to take a seat.
Urik gathered dried branches from a few of the scattered trees and piled them in the center of the trampled section. Within a short while, he had a crackling fire burning.
Endric welcomed the warmth. If nothing else, his time in the northern mountains, time spent wandering alone—often cold—had taught him to take advantage of times of comfort.
“What is your plan?” Endric asked as they sat there for a while. Urik had handed him strips of jerky, likely procured from Laurent.
“You’re a part of my plan.”
Endric looked around at the plains spreading all around them. The hills undulated away from them, a flowing grassland. In the daylight, it was quite lovely, a change from farther south where the landscape flattened as it headed toward the southern peninsula. A rocky coast surrounded everything there, but not so rocky and treacherous that the city of Gomald couldn’t serve as one of the massive ports and a vital point of communication between the northern continent and the southern one.
“I gathered that I’m a part of your plan, but what exactly is your plan? You’re after something with Tresten, though I don’t know how I can help you.”
Urik chewed on a strip of meat, tearing a portion of it free. “You’re more a part of this than you realize. Tresten entrusted you with knowledge that he did not with anyone else. Perhaps you didn’t even know that he had.”
“Tresten didn’t entrust me with any knowledge. He helped me stop you, but that was the only thing he did.”
Urik chuckled. In the darkness, the sound was eerie and carried out into the night. A soft howl echoed distantly, far enough away that Endric didn’t fear for his safety, but near enough that he was reminded of being tormented by the lacas while lying injured and near death a few days from the base of Vasha.
“Tresten helped you more than he has helped anyone else. That fact alone tells me that you have more knowledge than you realize.”
Endric’s gaze drifted to his sword, which Urik now wore. “Tresten didn’t tell me anything about changing teralin’s polarity.”
“No, I suppose he didn’t. He only showed you how it was possible and allowed you to do it on your own. Interesting that he would do that. Even more interesting is the fact that he knew how to do it, something that has been lost for countless generations.”
“Maybe to you, but he’s one of the Magi. Why wouldn’t he know of it?”
Urik shrugged. “How many of the Magi have you seen spending time in the teralin mines? Most of them prefer to remain in the palace and only ventured out when it was necessary. Few bother to even make their way to the second terrace, and fewer still venture down to the first. Why would any of them bother to go into the mines, especially if it placed them into some sort of danger?”
Endric fell silent. He had no sense that going into the mines placed the Magi into any danger. Certainly, Tresten had not been in danger, and had gone there of his own volition, choosing to enter the mines and use what he knew to change the polarity of the mined ore.
Had Tresten shared anything with them? Endric didn’t think so. Tresten had helped him learn what it took to change the polarity of teralin, but he seemed to believe that Endric would have had that ability regardless. It likely stemmed from his connection to the Antrilii, as so many things about him did.
What else could there have been? What other secrets could Tresten have shared that Urik wanted to know?
“I will manage to get away,” Endric said.
Urik laughed. “I have no doubt that you will try, but whether you will succeed is a very different thing. You might be able to overpower me with your sword,” he said, incredulity in his voice making it clear that he still struggled with how Endric had defeated him before, “but without your sword? You’re less without it, Endric. Face it. You’re a soldier. That is all that you will ever be. You’re a skilled soldier, and have grown incredibly talented, but…” He smiled and shrugged.
The words stung more than any attack would have. Endric wanted to be more than only a soldier and had thought that he was becoming so, but if Urik was able to overcome him and out-plan him, then how would he ever be anything more than a soldier?
He fell silent and leaned back, looking up at the stars. A cool breeze gusted, taking with it the smoke from the fire. The wind carried a mournful whistle, one that reminded Endric of the sounds he had heard through the mountains near Farsea. Maybe it would have been better to have remained there, to have stayed with the Antrilii and continue to serve there. Maybe it would have been better for him—and the Denraen.
“If I’m nothing but a soldier, why do you care about whether I’m with you?”
“Because there are times that even soldiers hear things not meant for their ears. I think that you have observed many things above your station. Now sleep.”
Endric avoided looking at Urik, staring at the sky instead. The stars shone brightly, light that some had called a reflection of the gods, a sign that they still watched over the people in the world below. Some believed the stars were the gods, that each one represented one of the ancient and nameless gods.
Endric doubted that, much as he doubted his role in the world. There had been a time when it had all been so easy for him, a time when he didn’t question what he was to do, leaving him with a confidence in knowing that he was meant to serve as a soldier, but he’d begun to allow himself the belief that he could be more, that he was meant for more. And maybe he still was. He wasn’t about to let Urik dictate what he was to do. Endric didn’t often know what role he was to serve, but one thing he did understand was that Urik had betrayed the Denraen as well as the historians.
“When I’m free, I will make certain that you suffer.”
Urik looked over at him, his eyes catching the shadows, making him appear haunted. “What makes you think that I haven’t suffered?”
He scooted away from the fire and left Endric.
Could it be that all of this was still about revenge? The man had lost his family and he blamed the Deshmahne, but Endric didn’t know the details about what had happened or why he had lost those that he had. Even though he had lost his family, it was the choices that he made that had turned him into a traitor. Urik had lost. He had suffered, and he had pressed on, determined to not let those tragedies define him. That was the way of the Denraen.
Which meant that Urik never had been Denraen. He had only pretended to be a soldier.
Endric took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill his lungs. Those thoughts stayed with them as he drifted. He would escape. Eventually, he would find a way to free himself, and he would have to decide whether to get revenge for what Urik had done to him or return him to Vasha. He didn’t know what he would choose.
He awoke from a deep slumber. It had not been dreamless. Endric had flashes of memories, images that came to mind while he slept, things that reminded him of his time while wandering the Antrilii lands. The dreams had been real and terrifying, but they faded the longer that he was awake. Why should he dream about the groeliin? Why should he fear them and a man with tattoos much like the Deshmahne—but who did not appear to be one of them?
There had been other dreams. He had flashes of memories, visions of challenging his father and wandering through the mines as he attem
pted to reclaim Vasha from Urik and his attack. There had been others as well, those like the Raver attack where Listain had died and the priests had been influenced by teralin. When Endric awoke, he suspected those thoughts were his way of working through what Urik had done, his way of trying to come to terms with the fact that Urik had betrayed the Denraen.
Maybe there was something else to it. Maybe it was his mind’s way of sending him a message. What message was that?
Urik was already awake by the time Endric arose. He had put out the fire and buried it, shifting the grasses on the plains so that evidence of their passing would be concealed. It was a Denraen technique, and he was not surprised that Urik would fall into and do everything that he could to mask their passing.
As the dreams faded, Endric thought he knew their purpose. It was a new day, and he was determined to get free of Urik, regardless of what that required. He would spend no more time in this man’s captivity. Urik had harmed the Denraen too much, and Endric would not be a victim to it any longer.
“You don’t sleep like a soldier,” Urik said.
Endric sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Is that meant as an insult?”
Urik grunted. “An insult? Maybe it is. I expected you to be up when the sun first crossed the horizon.”
Endric glanced at the sky. The sun was well up and had already begun to burn off the morning haze. He had slept longer than he normally would. It was longer than most men of the Denraen would sleep, longer than Endric typically slept.
He stood, determined to ignore Urik and his insults and determined to discover what Urik intended. There had to be something that he planned and some way that Endric could turn it to his benefit.
How could he do it?
He needed to unsettle Urik, much as he had unsettled him in the past. He had the sense from his conversations with Urik that Endric managing to overwhelm him annoyed the man. If he was annoyed—preferably angry—he would make mistakes. That was one of the first lessons of the Denraen.
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