Seri and Ixchel exited and found a familiar path. “The clearing in the grove?” Seri suggested. Ixchel nodded.
Sure enough, they found Forerunner sitting on the edge of the clearing. He glanced up as they approached, smiled, and pointed. Seri looked and her mouth fell open.
Dravid stood in the center of the clearing. Face red, he leaned on his crutch with one hand and held the other out as if grasping at the air. Beside him, Lucia stood, balancing on top of a disk of light that floated a foot off the ground. She appeared delighted.
“Dravid?”
He looked up, saw Seri and gasped. The disk of light dissolved and Lucia fell. She tumbled against Dravid, and both of them collapsed to the ground.
Lucia giggled, brushing her long blonde hair back as she rolled off Dravid. “That was fun!”
“Concentration!” Forerunner called. “You know this, Dravid.”
Dravid scrambled up into a sitting position. “Seri! I, uh, need to tell you something.”
“I guess you do.” She put her hands on her hips and shook her head. “What are you doing?”
Lucia helped Dravid get up on his crutch. “He’s been chosen to receive power!” she said in a far-too-cheery voice.
“Chosen?”
“No, no. Lucia, let me explain it.” He turned back to Seri. “I didn’t want to tell you yet, but, uh, something has happened to me.”
“And what would that be?”
Dravid’s face drew in, concentrating. He gestured in the air with a glowing hand. Using some kind of golden light, he formed a ball. He grabbed it and tossed it to Seri. She caught it and looked it over. Somewhat lopsided, it appeared to be formed of the same substance Forerunner used to protect them during the quake.
She looked back at Dravid. “How?”
He took a breath. “I’m not entirely sure, but—”
“He absorbed some of my power,” Forerunner interrupted. He walked up beside the group. “And now it is his to wield. It really is quite remarkable, Seri. I would not have been surprised if you did it, of course, given your… well, anyway, I am instead very surprised.”
“Given her what?” Lucia asked.
“Ah, our Seri is very special,” Forerunner said. He patted Seri on the shoulder. “Once she is restored, she will be amazing.”
Dravid’s face grew red again, though from embarrassment or something else, Seri couldn’t tell. He gasped and the golden ball in Seri’s hands dissolved. “Sorry. Using the power has some side effects, and I’ve been pushing myself a lot today.”
“This is… crazy. You gained this, this new power, and you didn’t even tell me? You told… him?”
“Also me,” Lucia chimed in.
“Because we needed an assistant,” Dravid said quickly. “It’s not… I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”
“I was going to show you once I learned more about how to use it.”
“Why? I thought we were friends. Why would…”
“Because of him!” Ixchel interrupted, pointing at Forerunner. “He confuses all of us! He clouds our thoughts and motivations with every word he speaks. You’ve both said he uses magic in his voice. Have you forgotten?”
Seri had forgotten. She had gotten so used to Forerunner’s voice, the magic content had slipped her mind. And why did Lucia still have her hands on Dravid?
“I’ve been confused,” Dravid said. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Oh, now that’s interesting!” Forerunner’s exclamation drew everyone’s attention. He had moved away from the conversation and now stood facing south.
Lucia let go of Dravid and moved next to him. “What is it, Forerunner?”
He ignored her and tilted his head, as if listening. “Well. Who would have thought?”
“No one here,” Dravid said. “What are you talking about?”
Forerunner lifted his head and smiled at them. “Something has come to my attention,” he said. “I will call everyone together shortly. Thank you all.”
He turned and hurried down the path back toward the pavilion. The others all looked at each other.
“Do any of you know what he meant?” Lucia asked. Dravid and Seri shook their heads. Ixchel ignored her and stepped to where she could continue to watch Forerunner’s progress.
Seri looked back to Dravid. She didn’t fully understand why she was so upset. She should be thrilled. Dravid possessing a special power would only make things better in their search for the lost King. Wouldn’t it?
“Seri, I…”
“Not now.” She turned and hastened down the path herself. Betrayal. That’s what she felt. And she didn’t even know why.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
KISHIN SMEARED THE mud across his face and rubbed down his forearms. For tonight’s visit, he did not want to waste time with questions about his appearance. In the dark, the mud would be enough of a disguise.
He slipped out of his home through his usual route and made his way across the city. The streets and shadows of Woqan were as familiar to him as his own house. For years, he had passed unseen through these buildings. Visiting those who desired his services. Killing those for whom he was paid. And sometimes, if he were lucky, taking an invisible look at his daughter, the one who had not seen him in return for somewhere around twenty years. He couldn’t be sure, exactly. During the early days of his curse, he had given up keeping track of the months and years. It hadn’t seemed important any longer.
He vaulted a garden wall and approached a house that dwarfed even his own. He remembered the day Kuch upgraded to this, after being appointed Blademaster of Ch’olan. He would not have that position if Kishin had not killed his predecessor for him. Kuch knew well how useful Kishin could be. Or had been.
Kishin entered the bedroom and looked down at his target. For a moment, the circle of his life amused him. Once long ago, he had stood at Kuch’s bed—in his previous house—and that visit had truly started his life as an assassin. It also concerned the topic which brought him here now.
He stretched out his sword and placed the cold flat against Kuch’s neck until he woke. He nearly sliced open his own neck when he jerked. Kishin wondered if that would have counted as a murder.
Kuch looked up and saw Kishin’s silhouette. He froze, but then relaxed as he recognized the appearance. “Kishin!” he whispered, so as not to wake his wife.
Kishin gestured with his sword and moved out to the garden. Kuch joined him in a moment, wrapping a robe around his body. Kishin noted Kuch had gained a few pounds in the last few months. Perhaps he had given up doing the weapons training himself now. That would make him an easier target if… Again no. He did not kill anymore.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Kuch asked, stifling a yawn.
“Lady Ajaw went to the Passing. She took the Holcan with her, but two did not return. What happened to them?”
To his credit, Kuch’s eyes widened only slightly. He knew the significance of what Kishin asked.
“One of them died on Zes Sivas,” he said. “They tell me she fought against a leper who killed without fear. I was sure it was you.”
Kishin blinked. He had not expected that, nor had Inkil mentioned it. Another leper assassin? How? He was—had been the only one. He was unique and always had been.
“It was not,” he said. “And the other?”
“Lady Ajaw assigned her to another Lady,” Kuch said. “She did not see fit to share her identity with me. But one of the other Holcan told me that it was not one of the great Ladies, but a mage of some kind.”
How did that happen? Holcan guardians were occasionally gifted or assigned to another Lady, usually as part of a ceremony celebrating an agreement between two lands. Kishin could not recall one ever being assigned to a woman other than the wife of one of the six Lords.
“Which land?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Which land is this Lady, this mage, from?”
“I don’t know. As often happen
s at The Passing, Lord Rajwir made new trade agreements with several lands. Kuktarma, Arazu, and Mandiata, I believe. I do not know that this assignment was tied to any of them in particular.”
“It’s her, isn’t it?”
“What’s her?”
Kishin lashed out, his sword stopping just short of Kuch’s eye. “Stop being a fool, Kuch. I gave you your position. Do not think for an instant that I cannot take it away. Or something else you value even more.” He traced down Kuch’s body with his sword’s tip.
“Of course it was her,” Kuch said. His voice did not tremble. Perhaps the years as Blademaster had toughened him up.
Kishin lowered his blade and turned away.
“Are you all right, Kishin? There’s something… different about you.”
“You are not the one I would confide in, if things had changed.”
Kishin took a step and leaped up onto the garden wall. He glanced back at Kuch for a moment, then jumped out into the night again.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
“ANY SIGN OF him?” Volraag rolled up the map and tucked it into his bag.
“No, your Lordship,” Otioch said. “If Lord Tyrr escaped the ruin you left behind, then he is well and truly gone.”
“I meant my brother.” Volraag scowled and Otioch winced.
“I told you what happened. We came back to find you, and—”
“You should have obeyed my orders and stayed with him.”
“You did not come as you said you would.”
Volraag turned and looked his Guard leader in the eyes. “You defy me, Otioch?”
“No, my Lord. Merely stating the facts.”
“Send twenty Guardsmen under your best leader and track him down.”
“I will handle it myself.”
“No.” Volraag turned back to his packing. “I have another task for you.”
Otioch stood stiff, waiting.
“Cassian will keep a watch on Rasna, but I doubt we have anything to fear from them. Between my brother’s… creative efforts, and my defeat of Lord Tyrr, I don’t think they will want to fight any more.”
Otioch nodded.
“At the bottom of that hole is a gate, a portal. I need it to be more accessible.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Take as many men as you need. Dig it out. Divert the stream. Build a path down to it. Whatever it takes.”
“It shall be done. Anything else, my Lord?”
“That will be all.” As he turned to go, Volraag stopped him. “Otioch.”
“My Lord?”
“I do not blame you for not succeeding. If my brother had chosen, he could have obliterated all of you. You’ve seen the power he wields. And yet you went, anyway. You are my most loyal, valued friend.”
“Thank you, my Lord.”
“Varioch will be in good hands while I’m gone.”
“I still think it’s a bad time to leave.”
“I know. But if I do not act quickly, I will miss out on the opportunity to achieve all that I’ve planned for.”
“As you say.”
Volraag frowned. “Nothing new in the messages? From Mandiata?”
“No, my Lord.”
“That is troubling. I would expect more of a response by now. At any rate, it doesn’t change anything. Fetch Tezan and we’ll go.”
“As you command.”
“Oh, and if Rathri somehow shows up, send him after us.”
Victor looked about at the curse squad setting up a camp. So different from when he and Marshal were alone. So much more… laughter. Camaraderie. Even when Talinir and Aelia had been with them, it hadn’t been this jovial.
There sat Gnaeus trying to build a fire with Merish. Topleb helped Wolf sort through a big pile of gear. Apparently, when the squad rushed out to help Marshal, they grabbed everything they could. Victor smiled to see that his and Marshal’s bedrolls had been included. He hadn’t been looking forward to sleeping on the ground.
Marshal stepped up next to him. “This is nice,” he said.
Victor nodded. “I was just thinking that. So… you know our path?”
“North is all I know. I’m trusting Topleb with the rest. We’re heading toward his home, after all.”
Rufus approached, spear in hand. “Where have you been?” Victor asked.
The redhead pointed back. “Backtracking a bit. Trying to hide our trail.”
“Good thought,” Marshal said. “You know they won’t have given up on us.”
“Do you think Lord Volraag will follow us?” Rufus asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what happened back at the battlefield. If Lord Tyrr got involved, that may have kept him busy. But he’ll at least send troops after us again. Probably his best.”
“Oh, uh, did I mention he has another assassin with him?” Victor said.
“What?”
“Looked a lot like the other guy. Leper. Ugly.”
Marshal rolled his eyes. “Great. We’ve got to deal with one of those again?”
“You mean… like the man who killed my friends?” Rufus said.
“Yeah, but not the same one. We dealt with him. I think.”
“We did?” Victor raised his eyebrows.
“The last time I saw him was in the temple,” Marshal said. “Before it came down. Either that killed him, or he gave up.”
“That doesn’t seem likely. Maybe he’s just healing somewhere.”
“So… we might have two of them after us?” Rufus asked.
“Theon’s pillars. I hope not,” Victor said. “One was enough.”
Gnaeus looked up. “Wait. Scar-faced man. Temple. That was you?”
Topleb chuckled. “You hadn’t figured that out yet?”
“You had?”
Topleb tapped his skull. “Ch’olan brains work twice as fast as Varioch. Also larger.”
“Larger doesn’t always mean better.”
“Name me one area of life in which this is true.”
“Noses,” said Wolf, and appeared delighted at the laughter that followed.
“Feet,” said Rufus.
“Not so!” said Topleb. “Large feet can be very helpful!”
The conversation degraded rapidly from that point. Everyone offered multiple suggestions, all of which Topleb argued. The idea of pursuit faded from their minds.
Some time later, Victor sat next to Topleb near the now-blazing fire. “You know our route from here?” he asked.
“Most certainly.” Topleb picked up a stick and drew in the dirt. “We are here, near the border of Rasna. If we head almost directly northeast, we should cut across the center of Varioch. That will avoid your city of Reman and its surroundings. Then we arrive in Theon’s own country, Ch’olan.”
“And you know where this place of power is?”
Topleb drew another spot on his dirt map. “Is here. Northeast of Woqan, greatest city of Antises.”
Victor tried not to smile. Topleb had been boastful before, but escaping the army seemed to have triggered more exaggeration. Victor couldn’t blame him. Everything did seem better now.
He glanced around at the others. “Where’s Gnaeus?”
“He was here a minute ago,” Marshal said, looking around.
“I’m right here!” Gnaeus stumbled out of the darkness. “Had to relieve myself. Do you need to know all the details?”
“Just making sure you’re all right,” Marshal said.
“I don’t belong here,” Wolf announced, staring into the fire.
Marshal put a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, you do, Wolf. Yes, you do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
“IS THIS EVERYONE?” Forerunner asked. His three primary assistants all nodded.
Seri looked around. All the residents of the sanctuary crowded together in the pavilion. All in all, she only counted around twenty-five people. A few days ago, it had seemed like so many more. She knew some, like Junia, had left, but hadn’t others come? Nothing about this
place ever made sense.
Dravid approached and opened his mouth to say something, but she turned away. Not yet.
“Very well. Listen, my friends!” Forerunner’s voice projected throughout the chamber. Reminded by Ixchel, Seri paid attention to how the magic reverberated through every word he said.
“It has come to my attention that an old friend of mine is in need of help. I must go to him.”
Murmurs of disappointment arose. Forerunner lifted his hands.
“It can’t be helped, I’m afraid. This friend cannot come to me. I don’t think he fully understands the situation in which he finds himself. So I will have to go to him. Once I do, we will doubtlessly return to this wonderful place.”
“Are you going alone?” someone asked.
“No, no. I don’t think I’ll ever travel alone again. But I cannot take all of you with me. Some must remain here to take care of our sanctuary, and welcome any others who come to us with their needs.”
A clamor arose as most of the followers offered themselves as Forerunner’s traveling companions. He assured them he would choose carefully, and would be departing on the following morning. With that, he dismissed the crowd.
As Forerunner moved through, talking individually with various followers, Seri pondered. An old friend? If Forerunner came from the Otherworld as he said, what kind of old friends would he possess? Eldanim? Gidim? She thought of the glowing beings she had seen there.
“Seri. You and your friends should definitely come along,” Forerunner said. She jerked. She hadn’t noticed him drawing so close.
“Why should we?”
“Because I have not yet restored what you each desire,” he said. “And… because I think this trip will help you in your quest.”
“My quest?”
“The reason you’re here in Varion?”
Before she could say anything else, he moved on, addressing another follower. Seri didn’t remember telling him about her mission. But Forerunner always seemed to know things. Frustrating.
“Can we talk? Please?” Dravid.
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