Soldier Saved

by D. K. Holmberg

  The hall was empty. There was nothing along it other than more storage. There was no way to reach the priests and no alternative way out of the temple.

  He backtracked, reaching the first door that had led him in, and glanced along the corridor, debating whether to continue along it or return to the temple.

  He’d come this far and decided to try a little farther.

  At the next lantern, and the next door, he found another storeroom.

  He went farther, and each one was similar.

  He found another corridor off this one, and it was much like the last, with storerooms lining the length of it and an impassable door at the end.

  With frustration, he turned back and hurried toward the temple. Just because he hadn’t seen anyone here yet didn’t mean that no one would be coming this way. There wasn’t a way out, not without having the key to one of those doors, which forced him to go back through the temple.

  He had failed.

  All he wanted was to find Tresten, and he had failed.

  He had thought there would be something in Thealon for him to find, but he had learned nothing. Attempts to find the priests had failed him. How long could he remain here, searching? How long did he risk staying in Thealon when he needed to return to Vasha?

  Maybe it was time to abandon his search. Tresten might not be dead—Endric couldn’t be certain either way—but he was gone.

  And he needed to acknowledge that he couldn’t find him.

  When he entered the temple, he found it empty. He glanced at the altar, noting the thick haze of smoke coming from the burning incense. Endric made a point of avoiding taking a deep breath, not wanting to inhale it. Frustration settled through him as he left the temple and reached the outside once more. He took a deep breath, clearing the stink of the incense from his nostrils, and made his way back toward the tavern.

  When he entered the room, he froze.

  Urik sat untied on the bed, but that wasn’t what drew his attention.

  Rather it was the man—the Mage—sitting next to him that did.

  “Tresten?”

  The elderly Mage turned to him and offered a tight smile. “Endric. It’s good that you have finally come for me.”

  23

  Endric stared at Tresten, barely able to believe the Mage was here in front of him. After everything he’d been through, how was it that Tresten now sat in front of him with Urik?

  Endric slowly pulled the door closed and stepped into the room. He trembled, trying to gather his thoughts but finding it difficult to do so. “Where have you been?” he asked.

  Tresten tipped his head to the side. He had a long face and eyes that seemed knowing, as if anything Endric might tell him, the Mage already knew. “You always knew where to find me, Endric. Why is it surprising that you would find me in Thealon?”

  Endric pulled a chair out of the corner and took a seat. He let his gaze linger on Urik. The man was no longer bound, but he made no effort to move, as if simply having Tresten here with them was enough to suppress any desire he might have to escape. Urik pointedly ignored him and Endric resisted the urge to grab him and replace the ropes securing his wrists and ankles. At least Urik hadn’t said anything—so far.

  “Reports out of Thealon were that you were dead.”

  Tresten smiled. “Is that true?”

  “That’s what I had heard.”

  Tresten tipped his head. “I think you misunderstood. None of the reports said that I was dead. All of them claimed that I was lost.”

  “Why did you want people to think you were gone?”

  “There is a certain value in the unexpected. You can understand that, can’t you?” Tresten was looking at Urik, watching the man with a bright intensity.

  Urik coughed and looked away from Tresten. “You were dead.”

  “It was a necessary deception for my protection.”

  “Yours?” Endric asked. “Who would want to harm you?”

  “Do you remember the summons?” Tresten asked.

  Endric nodded.

  “I had begun to hear rumors that troubled me.”

  “What kind of rumors?” Urik asked.

  Tresten studied him a moment. “The kind that made me think I could trust only Endric. There is something only you—and your father—can help with. Where is Dendril?”

  “I don’t know. He left Vasha—”

  “Left? He should not have left. I warned him not to go.”

  “Why?”

  Tresten tipped his head and his eyes closed. When they opened, he shook his head. “Troubling. We must move quickly now and begin.”

  “Begin what?” Endric asked.

  “Begin to bring about the end.”

  Endric shook his head. Nothing that Tresten was saying made sense. “I need to return to Vasha. I’ve been gone long enough. My father—”

  “Your father will be accepting of you taking this journey.”

  “My father would prefer I stay in Vasha and continue to work on gaining the necessary leadership skills to lead the Denraen. Besides, with him gone—”

  Urik sneered at him. “With him gone, you prefer to spar with other soldiers, and your poor, drunk friend has no longer the same reputation he once did. And now your presence in the city has created a challenge for Senda.” He laughed darkly, and Endric wanted nothing more than to reach across the distance between them and strike him in the face. “Poor Endric. He’s run off to the Antrilii, and now that he returned, he can’t resume his place in the Denraen.”

  Tresten watched Endric while Urik was speaking. There was a certain weight to his gaze and his eyes flashed, almost a knowing look behind them. “What is this? What happened while you were with the Antrilii that makes your return to the Denraen difficult?”

  Endric leaned back and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Nothing.”

  Urik laughed again, his laughter rising almost hysterically. “Nothing? I managed to gain enough influence with the Denraen during the time that Tresten was missing. Endric is no longer en’raen and can no longer serve in the way that he thought that he was going to.”

  Tresten frowned. “You have no need to mock Endric, Urik. Your place here is quite firmly established.”

  Urik met Tresten’s gaze for a moment before he looked down.

  It was the most that Endric had seen Urik conceding to anyone. Even with his father, there had been a defiance and an arrogance that still remained in spite of Urik claiming that he was restored from the influence of the negatively charged teralin. He took that arrogance out on Endric in ways that he never did with Dendril, but it was present with Dendril.

  With Tresten, all hint of the arrogance faded.

  Was it only that Tresten was one of the Magi?

  Tresten glanced over. “You and I will discuss what you saw while in the Antrilii lands later. The reports that I hear tell that you were witness to something that has never been seen before.”

  Endric nodded carefully. How was it that Tresten heard word of that? Did it come from his father, or did it come from the Antrilii?

  “Why reveal yourself now?” Endric asked.

  “Because you came for me. When I left the note, I thought you would come sooner, but it seems that you took your time. I fear that we are already too late.”

  “I couldn’t read the letter.”

  “After your time with the Antrilii, you still didn’t manage to learn enough of the ancient language?”

  “I know some, but Senda took the letter and kept it from me. Only because of Urik…”

  Tresten eyed him. “Yes. I’m not surprised that Urik would come for me.”

  Endric looked from Tresten to Urik. “How did you know I came for you? The priest?”

  When the priest had disappeared, Endric thought that he was running from him so that he wouldn’t have to answer questions about what happened to Tresten, but perhaps that wasn’t the case at all. Perhaps he had scurried off to get word to Tresten.

  “Since we restored th
em from teralin, the priests have served quite well.” He cast a pointed look at Urik.

  “What were you waiting for?”

  “You.”

  “Me? Why would you be waiting for me?”

  “Because you are needed to serve as my escort.”

  Tresten stood and motioned to Urik. The other man shook his head, keeping his eyes down and ignoring Tresten as he loomed over him.

  “Stand, Urik. Do not make me carry you.”

  The idea seemed ridiculous. A Mage carrying a soldier? But Tresten was not like any other Mage, and though he might be elderly, he was still powerful, exuding strength simply standing in the room. Even Urik must feel it, which, as Endric thought about it, was possibly the reason that Urik was more conciliatory. It was not a great leap of imagination to think of Tresten lifting Urik and carrying him from the room. Tresten might not even draw the same attention that Endric would.

  For that matter, what would those in the tavern have thought of one of the Magi coming to a place like this?

  Endric stood and looked over at Tresten. “How did you find me?”

  “You are not so difficult to find, Endric, especially as you make no effort to hide yourself.” He surveyed the room, noting the restraints above the bed without making any sort of indication that he knew why they were there. “I must admit that you have chosen a particularly interesting place to stay.”

  Endric shrugged. “It was the only place I could find that would not draw too much attention to Urik, bound and gagged.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t. A place like this is accustomed to having men bound and gagged.”

  Endric started to smile. “I’ve paid the king’s rate, if you were feeling the need…”

  Tresten pressed his lips together. “I am far too old for such proclivities.”

  Urik reluctantly stood. He clasped his hands together in front of him and while he glared at Endric, he barely looked up to meet Urik’s gaze.

  Maybe it was only that it was Tresten. Endric understood the reaction. Tresten was different than most of the Magi and carried himself with not only an air of authority similar to the other Magi, but there was a sense of knowledge and understanding that came with him as well. He was a Mage that Endric had no difficulty following.

  With Urik now standing, Tresten pulled the door open and stood in the hallway.

  “Where are we going?” Endric asked, moving next to the Mage. He glanced over his shoulder and noted Urik standing behind him. He made no effort to run, even though he was no longer bound or gagged. For that matter, he made no effort to scream and raise attention to the fact that he was still confined here.

  “I believe you have a horse?” Tresten asked.

  Endric nodded. “Two.”

  “Then we are going to the stables.”

  Tresten led them down the stairs and through the tavern. It seemed as if the crowd moved out of the way, almost as if they recognized that a Mage moved through, but they said nothing as they created space. As they went, Endric continued to watch behind him, concerned that Urik might try something, but the man never did, following contritely.

  It made him uncomfortable to have Urik behind him, so he waited until Urik passed him and took up the rear position. Once out of the tavern, Tresten quickly went to the stables, where the young boy who had greeted Endric when he’d first come to the tavern sat in a pile of hay, chewing on a strand while tossing marbles across the stones.

  When Tresten approached, the boy looked up and spit out the strand of hay. “Yes?”

  The Mage nodded. “We seek this man’s horses.”

  “So?”

  “I believe as the stable boy, your position would be to gather and settle the horses,” Tresten said. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Had Endric not known the Mage before, he doubted that he would have recognized it. It was unlikely the boy recognized Tresten as a Mage because if he did, he would be unlikely to be quite so cavalier about how he spoke to Tresten.

  “Two coppers,” the boy said.

  Endric stepped forward but Tresten raised a hand, stopping him. “Two coppers? Is that what your time is worth?”

  The boy shrugged and gathered the marbles that had spilled out in front of him. “I don’t know what my time is worth. Two coppers is what I’m charging.”

  Tresten leaned down so that he was close to the boy’s face. “As you grow, one question you must ask yourself: What is your time worth? Once you answer that, you will be farther ahead than most.”

  The boy stared at him, unblinking for a long moment, before he shrugged again. “My father doesn’t give me a choice. He tells me to collect coins, which is what I’m doing.”

  Tresten smiled. “All men have a choice. As you grow, that is another lesson you’ll learn. Find the value of your time and decide whether you’re willing to take what you’re offered. If not, there is always another way, and there’s always another path.”

  “What are you, a priest?”

  Tresten sniffed. “No priest. Merely someone who has lived a long time and knows the value of many things.” He pulled a coin purse from his pocket and fished the handful of coins from it, setting them in the boy’s palm. “I believe this should be enough to gather our horses?”

  The boy stared at the coins in his hand for a moment, his eyes going wide. There had to be nearly ten coppers that Tresten had pulled out, including at least one silver. Far more than what the boy had asked for, and far more than what such a menial task would have required. It was more than Endric would have given.

  The boy lurched to his feet and scurried off, disappearing into the stable. “You’re only going to encourage him to ask for more,” Endric said.

  “Or I might encourage him to begin to question whether he should ask different questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  Tresten looked over. “The kind that matter.”

  The boy led the horses out and watched Tresten with a gaze that could only be described as awe. Had the boy realized that Tresten was one of the Magi? If he had, that would explain the expression in his eyes, though maybe it was only about how many coins Tresten had paid him, and nothing else.

  The boy handed the reins of the horse to Tresten, who handed them over to Endric, smiling to himself. Endric took them and led them out of the stable, waiting for Tresten. The Mage leaned toward the young man and spoke to him quietly.

  “What do you think he’s telling him?” Endric asked.

  Urik snorted. “Probably some Mage secrets that he thinks will convert the boy to the Urmahne.”

  “That offends you?” Endric asked.

  “Not the conversion. I believe all must find the gods.”

  Before he had a chance to elaborate, Tresten rejoined them, leading a third horse.

  Endric glanced over his shoulder at the young boy and noted that he held Tresten’s coin purse. Endric shook his head, laughing. “I suspect you overpaid for this as well,” he said.

  Tresten merely smiled. “Did I?”

  Endric eyed the horse. It was a stout animal, one that would not be the fastest ride, but would be unlikely to grow tired. Such a creature would have not an insignificant cost. Perhaps Tresten had not done nearly as poorly as Endric first thought.

  “Where to?” Endric asked.

  Tresten guided them through the city and toward the main road. Once they were on it, Endric noted the Tower rising above, casting a shadow that stretched along the road. A crowd filled the street, one that he now understood, considering this was the time of the Ascension, and many reminded him of the miners he had followed through the city.

  Tresten glanced over, looking at Endric before his gaze lingered on Urik. “Now we will head where Urik has long wanted to go. The reason that he thought to capture you and bring you to find me.”

  “Where is that?” Endric asked.

  Urik watched Tresten, his eyes unreadable.

  “He has wanted to know about the Conclave. Now he will. Both of you will.
”

  Tresten started forward without hazarding another glance back and led them from the city, away from the crowd, and away from the Tower, leaving Endric only with questions. Urik stared at Tresten’s back, saying nothing. The heat in his gaze said everything and left Endric with even more questions.

  24

  They reached the southern shores on the third day of riding. Urik had spoken little during the journey, deferring to Tresten. For his part, Mage Tresten had spoken very little as well. Endric still had not discovered why Tresten had disappeared or why he had made others believe he was dead and had begun to question whether he would.

  They sat on a rocky overlook, the sea crashing far below them, sending occasional salty spray up toward them. Thick blankets of clouds swirled through the sky, the darkness within them hinting at rain that never came. So far, their journey had been uneventful and unmarred by weather. Occasional peals of thunder rumbled, shaking Endric, as if the gods chased them, sending them on their mission with Tresten. Even Urik seemed unsettled by the heavy thunder.

  Endric helped establish camp quickly, digging out a small pit and getting a low fire crackling. If it did rain, Endric wanted to have some source of warmth, a way of keeping them dry. They were out in the open for the most part, with only a few trees for cover, nothing else that might provide any sort of protection if storms did come.

  Tresten wandered along the shore, alone. He stared at the sea, something he had done often in the days since Endric and Urik had joined him.

  “What do you think he’s staring at?” Endric asked Urik.

  Urik had been quiet, and Endric hadn’t decided whether it was out of his anger at being captured or whether he was quiet because of Tresten’s presence. Either would explain it.

  When Endric had the fire going, he started toward Tresten.

  “Leave him,” Urik said.

  Endric looked over. Urik’s gaze seemed fixed on the flame, as if he found some answer in the crackling of the fire and the twisting of the flames.

  “Why should I leave him?” Endric asked.