The Defender

by Rachel Rossano

  “What did Cayphis mean?”

  “I comforted his mother and sisters while his father, the high king, was dying. He feels he owes me for the peace they had at the high king’s passing.” The strings finally gave way, and the flaps fell open to reveal a thick stack of papers. As Hadrian’s eyes fell on the first piece of parchment, his face froze.

  “What is it?” Renato asked. When Hadrian didn’t answer, Renato crossed and took the whole stack. I watch as his face drained of all color.

  “It is only as we expected,” Hadrian whispered as he closed his eyes. I suspected he was praying.

  “What is it?” I asked Renato, figuring he would give me an answer sooner.

  Silently, he unfolded the paper and spread it over the top of a crate of barley. In bold lettering, it said, “Wanted, preferably dead, the former Sept Son Aleron for crimes against the state and the goddess. The high king will pay captor a noble title with land and fortune.”

  My stomach twisted. “Surely High King Marcellus did not commission this,” I whispered to my brother. This didn’t align with any of my memories of Deucalion Marcellus.

  “Not unless he was under mind control.”

  “Or unaware of its purpose,” Hadrian said. “Take the rest of the papers, Renato, and glean all the information you can from them.”

  “What should I look for?” Renato asked.

  “Anything that will help us,” Hadrian replied with a weak wave of his hand. “Now leave me. I need some time alone.”

  Hadrian saluted and turned to leave. I also made motions to follow, but something about the dark cloud falling over Hadrian slowed my movements. Something was seriously wrong. Although I did believe that spending some time with the Almighty would help him, I suspected that it would not be enough. Should I stay? I asked the Almighty.

  I looked back over my shoulder. Hadrian was on his knees. His dark head hung, and his shoulders stooped. A feeling, a sense that something was off about him, crept up my spine and settled in the back of my head. Although it was clear that Hadrian wished to be alone, I found myself falling back into the shadows instead of leaving through the door.

  * * *

  Hadrian

  It is happening again, Lord. Another young life has been thrown into the fray before it is ready. Father, I am afraid for Eldivo. He is so young and innocent of the mesitas’ purposes for him. Please, Lord, keep him safe. Please, Lord, spare his soul from the poison of the goddess’ followers.

  I took a deep breath and held it until my lungs screamed for release. Slowly letting them resume they usual rhythm, I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, but I couldn’t erase the missive from my mind. So many people wanted me dead. Father, what are you planning? Am I to lose my life to save my soul or save my life and lose my soul? So many have already died, and so many more will follow them before this struggle is finished. How can I call them to risk their lives for this cause? Isn’t there another way? I am gathering a force only to order it to fight to the death. Each passing day weighs heavier, Father. More men die. Is there some way to do this without sending so many into eternity?

  Although the thoughts flowed from my heart with all the strength I could muster, despite my faith that the Almighty did listen and would answer my pleas, I found doubt creeping in at the edges, filling my limbs with weary weight. I clung all the more to the truths that I knew to be true.

  I know You are in control. I know You are here. I know you listen. You are a compassionate God. You care. Please, Almighty, show me Your grace. Give me strength to make it through. Provide a clear path for my feet. You have done so much already. I know that you will not fail us now. Without you, we are nothing. Without you, I am nothing.

  Slowly, as though reluctant to give in, my shoulders eased, and I found my senses clearing. The peace I had been seeking all morning slipped through my mind. I was just beginning to relax when I realized that mint was infusing my tongue.

  “Zez?”

  “Sorry.” Suddenly, the taste was gone. I felt alone, but not completely. Even when we weren’t interacting mentally, I could sense her soft glow on the border of my consciousness. We couldn’t be completely unaware of each other when in such close quarters.

  “No.” I lifted my head and sought out her position with my eyes, a slight darkening in the shadows near the door. “Don’t go.” A smile slipped through. “I needed that.”

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  I shook my head. “No, it helped.”

  “Truly?”

  I nodded. Zez’s presence was calming. I wished I could sink into her mental aura. I had once read a theory about peace coming from an innocent mind, untroubled by strife. If that were so, I would never manage it on my own. My mind was constantly troubled with all the matters that I needed to conduct. Perhaps that was why Zez’s peace was so helpful. I could not provide my own refuge, but she could be my refuge.

  Readjusting my position so that I could sit with my back against a nearby crate, I stretched my legs out as far as I could in the cramped space. Closing my eyes, I drank deeply of the quiet between the creaking wheels and the distant calls of the drivers. Slowing my breathing, I allowed the newly found peace to seep into my bones.

  I must have fallen asleep. When the wagon rocked as someone jumped through the door with a shout, I opened my eyes to find the sky darkened to the deeper grey of a rainy afternoon. The wagon wheels had also slowed to a painful pace.

  “The Elitists have our compound.” Renato waved a piece of paper in my face. “Our recruits are going to walk into a trap. We have to stop them.”

  Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I struggled to pull my body from its relaxed state. Although my mind jumped to full awareness, my limbs were more reluctant. “Sit down and explain yourself, Renato,” I demanded. “It can’t be as bad as you are making it out to be.”

  Obediently, my assistant sat as Zez slipped out into the rain. I hoped she was going to get us food and something to drink. Despite my reassurances to Renato, I could completely believe that it was as bad or worse than what he was saying. Thank you for the peace before the storm, Almighty, I prayed before turning my attention to the new crisis.

  * * *

  Zezilia

  The following five days passed in a whirlwind of work. Despite the fact the whole caravan was literally stuck in the mud along the trail, Hadrian, Renato, Plantonio, and I were too busy to worry about the fact we were going nowhere. Letters had to be sent, orders written out, and supply wagons diverted.

  I was put in charge of writing out the orders that Hadrian dictated. It was a difficult job considering all the other information Hadrian had to dictate to Renato, give to Plantonio, and convey to the various messengers that now flowed constantly in and out of the aegyptus camp. The Aegypti seemed completely willing to help.

  Renato, Plantonio, and I tried to keep to our schedule of watches, never leaving Hadrian alone. Of course, with all the extra tasks and the random nature of the coming and goings of the messengers, it became more and more difficult. As the evening of the fifth day finally wound to a close and night fell, I eagerly looked for Plantonio, my replacement.

  “Finally, the last batch of orders,” Hadrian announced as he tied the cord on a thick stack of parchments.

  “Now you can rest,” I suggested. Hadrian needed it. The circles under his eyes were so dark that it looked as though he had two black eyes. Of all of us, he had pushed himself the hardest. Catching small bits of sleep, a few hours at a time, he kept pushing forward. He needed more than that. I hoped he would take the hint and sleep.

  “When is the messenger due to pick these up?” he asked as he rose to stretch.

  “Another hour or so, I believe.”

  “Hardly time to close my eyes. Is there anything left to eat on the tray that Nuru brought? I thought I saw Renato wolfing most of it down before we could even get a whiff.”

  “I think there are some rolls and cold stew if you can stomach it.” I waved toward the far co
rner where I had seen the tray last. Then, reaching for the missives, I began the process of wrapping them in oilskins to protect them from the rain.

  “Do you think we will succeed?” Hadrian asked.

  “Diverting the troops, Master, or reaching the new meeting place in time?” I asked. A yawn threatened, but I coughed instead. Blinking back the moisture in my eyes from lack of sleep, I tried to focus on the task.

  Hadrian sighed heavily. “Both, I guess.”

  “It is in the Almighty’s hands.” The edges of oilskin didn’t match up, leaving a gap an inch wide. I grimaced at the exposed parchment. My tired brain struggled with the task of figuring out whether or not the oilskin was large enough to sufficiently cover the bundle.

  “Aye, but He works within our physical world.” Hadrian returned to his seat across the crate from me with a bowl of stew in one hand and a roll in the other. I didn’t bother looking up at him before searching the floor for a larger piece of oilskin.

  As I leaned over to pick one up, a strange taste tickled the back of my tongue. Pausing long enough to throw up my mental defenses, I began to search for the source. It could be the messenger arriving early, but that didn’t feel right for some reason.

  “I just can’t help wondering if…” A knock on the door interrupted Hadrian, and we both froze. “Hopefully it is Plantonio,” Hadrian sent, rising slowly.

  I probed the man standing outside. “No. It isn’t him. It is a stranger, but…”

  “Ah, the messenger.” Rising, he moved to walk past me. “I will…”

  “No, stop.” Something wasn’t right. Although I couldn’t articulate what exactly why I knew it, but I did with a resolve that scared me. “Wait. I think it might be the…”

  The presence touched my mind again. It probed my defenses. I tried to emanate a sense of calm and hide my suspicions, but apparently, it wasn’t enough. Our delay in answering the door didn’t help. The person in my head was on the attack. He flooded over my outer barriers with an ease that reminded me of the attack in the kings’ council chamber. Suddenly I knew who or rather what it was.

  “Don’t send to me. Don’t reach out to me. Nothing.”

  Hadrian gave me a strange look. “Zezilia?”

  I opened my mouth to explain, but I had no breath. Tiring of only creeping through my defenses, the assailant drove at my angulus. Agony flooded my senses. Ice and fire seared through my brain as a maniacal laugh echoed in my ears. My mouth burned. All I could taste and smell was the stench of burning flesh, rotting flesh. My head was going to explode. Distantly I could hear Hadrian’s voice. “ConProp!” he yelled. Or, maybe he sent it. Either way, I couldn’t hold on. I slipped into nothingness.

  * * *

  Chapter VIII

  Hadrian

  Father, Almighty, please don’t take her. My lungs burned from lack of oxygen, but I could not breathe. I need her. She sprawled on the floor, hair slipping from its bindings and face deathly pale. What frightened me even more was the fact her presence was gone from my Talent-sight. As I moved toward her, the door behind me burst open and rebounded off a crate.

  Thankfully, the man entering hadn’t expected that and was startled for a moment. Shaking myself free of my horror, I wrenched my attention to the situation at hand. While part of my mind cried out to the Lord to spare her, the other part was initializing all my standard defenses, erecting a field of energy around us, and sending a mental call for help. Stepping over Zez’s prostrate form, I blocked her from sight and any form of physical assault.

  “Ah, Sept Son.” The stranger entered, kicking the door closed behind him. Scanning the room lazily, he sneered. “Your defender doesn’t seem to be much use.”

  “What defender?” Fighting the urge to turn and make certain that I was completely hiding her from him, I checked for signs of life with my energy sight.

  “She wasn’t nearly as strong as I was led to believe she would be. It must be those hysteria issues that women so often experience.”

  Zez still breathed. The pressure in my chest eased slightly as she stirred.

  “What might those be?” I asked.

  “Slow to learn, lack of concentration, weakness of resolve.” He shrugged. His coat moved, exposing for an instant the hilt of a gisto. I didn’t know if it was armed with poison or stracken, but at least I knew his weapon.

  “Women aren’t much use Talent wise. The only thing they are good for is bearing children.” He shoved the tray off its crate with a crash. Refusing to be distracted by the sudden movement, I kept my gaze on his face. Long and angular, he was far from attractive, but the malevolent gleam to his eye was mesmerizing. With a purposeful flare of his cloak that did not reveal the gisto, he straddled the now empty crate. His hands, long and bony, rested gracefully on his thighs, relaxed, but ready to move at the slightest provocation.

  “Women have genetically superior mass moving strength,” I pointed out. I had a weapon, my eating knife, but it was in a holster at my waist. Both of my hands were in sight and far from reaching it.

  “Do have a seat, Sept Son. Make yourself comfortable.” He motioned to a crate next to him.

  Movement to sit on any crate would expose Zez’s position. I shook my head.

  He shrugged. “Mass moving is such a minor skill compared to the better uses of the mind, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “No.” Where were Renato and Plantonio?

  There was a shout outside the door. The stranger turned toward the sound, and I took the opportunity to reach for my knife. Slipping it from its place, I flipped it, so the blade rested against my arm and moved my hand to rest against my hip. Just as he turned again to face me, Zez’s presence filled my senses.

  “I wouldn’t do anything foolish if I were you,” he warned. He drew the gisto and pointed it at me. “Call them off my partner.”

  “What is the plan?” Zez’s mint brushed my tongue. I could feel her fear, a quivering flutter, but I could also feel her resolve and calm. I tightened my grip on the hilt. “If you can immobilize his hands, I might be able to unarm him before he gets a chance to do anything.”

  “I can do that. But what about his mental skills?”

  The invader’s presence prowled around my defenses, circling like an animal looking for an opening. He hadn’t even tried touching my thoughts to send or otherwise. I was pretty sure it was because he wasn’t that powerful. Most likely, his partner was the one who had the skills, probed Zez, and was now suffering from the back lash of Zez’s violent ConProp. The only way he would be able to do anything to my mind or Zez’s was if we let him through our defenses.

  “I don’t think we have anything to fear from him as long as our defenses are up. Be ready when I say the word.”

  “I am ready.”

  Her instantaneous positive response made me smile, which made our adversary edgy.

  “I am waiting.” He waved the gisto to remind me that he had the upper hand. “Call your thugs off my partner.”

  “Or what? You’re planning on killing me no matter what I do. Why should I call off my defenders?”

  Stepping to the side, he lowered his aim, pointing it at Zez. She froze.

  “I will kill her first,” he said. “It is your choice. Watch her slowly die now or let her watch you die. Either way, she will die. I promise you that.”

  The scuffling stopped outside the door. “Renato and Plantonio are outside the door,” Zez sent. “Do you want me to…”

  “No. Are you ready?”

  “They have my man. You are running out of time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Now.”

  “Time is up, Sept Son,” the young man announced. Gripping the gisto with two hands, he fired, but the dart didn’t get far before it stopped. Suspended in midair, it hung between her and him. The surprise on his face quickly turned to panic as he realized that he couldn’t move his hands. Then, before he could do much more than take a breath, I stepped forward, knocked the gisto from his fingers, and entered
his mind.

  I met with no resistance. Expecting at least some semblance of defensive protection, I was momentarily stunned when I found not even the basic groundwork of a beginner Talent.

  “You have killed me,” he sent. Fear, black and thick, filled his center and flooded my connection with him.

  “I have no intention of harming you.”

  His head snapped back as though yanked on a string. Eyes rolling back into his head, he screamed both mentally and physically. I broke my connection in an act of self-preservation. His body spasmed against its invisible restraints before suddenly going completely limp, head lolling to the side. Zez's energy still held him upright by his hands, but nothing could disguise the limpness of his limbs or the dead look to his staring eyes. Just then, the door burst open and Renato stumbled through.

  "Hadrian…" The next words were lost as he noticed our assailant. "What happened?"

  Closing my eyes against the sight, I took a deep breath before answering him. "Another assassin. I understand that you have his accomplice in your custody. Is he alive?"

  The body moved as Zez eased it to the ground. She handled it as gently as though it were still alive. A confused jumble of emotion radiated from her. I wanted to give her my full attention, but it wasn't possible yet.

  Renato grimaced. "Can't you hear him? They send a boy barely old enough to grow whiskers, and he whines like a child of three. He keeps pleading with us not to kill him even though we have promised him we will not."

  "Don't force mind contact. Ask the man how we can avoid killing him."

  Confusion covered Renato's countenance for a moment. "You think he will die if we… Oh! Lorne. I see." He promptly turned and hurled himself back out the door.

  "I don't understand,” Zez asked from where she still sat on the floor. "Who is Lorne, and what does he have to do with this?"

  "Lorne was one of my assistants." A familiar guilt squeezed my throat. "He was a friend who died suddenly without reason after attacking me. We theorized that he had been planted with a subconscious command. When he completed it, a suicide switch initialized, killing him."