Iregh shrugged. "I don't question my master. She gets...irritable...when people talk back to her."
Irritable. The pieces fell into place and suddenly Calistra realized what must have happened. "Shades….It was Lauryn,"
Ky'ara and Joran looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?" Joran asked defensively, "Lauryn would never..."
"Not intentionally of course," Calistra cut him off before he could get too angry, "A little while ago Hallahna and Amischel came to me...they'd just encountered Lauryn acting strangely—overly irritable and such, similar to the Elysian woman you brought. And Irakyll sensed something off about her too...Clearly the Destroyer was using her to obtain information about us."
Calistra watched Iregh closely for a reaction, wondering how he'd feel about his master having used his daughter in such a way. She wasn't disappointed. The reaction was subtle and almost immediately stifled, but his eyes grew wide and a vein twitched in his temple. So he did still care about his daughter...at least enough to care that his master had mucked about in her mind. Good to know.
"Did you take care of it?" Joran asked, "Lauryn is going to be fine now, right? She hasn't been unusually angry lately, at least not as much as before...though recent events are probably going to change that." His eyes flicked towards the captive.
"It's been dealt with," Calistra stated crisply, turning back to Iregh. "Now, I believe you wanted to discuss your terms...You realize we can't risk allowing you to actually perform any magic, but I'm sure we can allow you some creature comforts in return for more information about your previous employer..."
* * * * *
Ky'ara left the tent, her thoughts in chaos.
Taren was gone.
What was the last thing she'd said to him? Had she told him how much she loved him? She never should have let him take off on his own. Shades-curse-it! She'd felt it...she'd known something was wrong and still she'd let herself get sidetracked by other things. Maybe if she'd been there...The thought stuck in her head and she pressed a shaking hand against her mouth, feeling tears leak from her eyes despite her attempts to control them. She ducked behind the nearest tent and sank to the ground, feeling great shuddering sobs wrack her body.
Taren was gone.
* * * * *
Joran watched Ky'ara from a distance, not sure what to do. Her pain knotted inside his chest, driving him to do something, anything, to help her...but there was nothing to be done. Taren was gone, probably already in the hands of the Destroyer, being tortured or Light knows what else...he shook his head and straightened his shoulders. If Ky'ara was falling apart and Taren was gone, the responsibility fell on him to find a solution. He wouldn't let what had happened last winter repeat itself...the fate of the world depended on Ky'ara, and he couldn't let her fail.
"What happened?" Lauryn asked softly, her voice startling him. Drat, he needed to get his focus back...what if something far more sinister had snuck up on them? He looked at her and sighed. "Taren's been captured. Your, umm, father, just confirmed it."
Lauryn looked at the weeping girl and then back at Joran. "You know how she feels, right?"
"Yeah...it's pretty bad. I—"
"Then get over there and comfort her you dingdong! Give her a hug, tell her you're going to go with her to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes to find him, or that you'll bash as many heads as you need to get him back..."
"You've never comforted someone, have you?" Joran asked dryly. Lauryn gave him a look and pushed him in Ky'ara's direction.
"Just get over there and stop being such a coward about it."
Joran rolled his eyes and walked silently over to where Ky'ara knelt curled up behind a tent. He reached out, then hesitated, feeling awkward. He glanced back. Lauryn furrowed her brow and pointed sternly. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on Ky'ara's back and knelt beside her. She did nothing to acknowledge his presence, but after a few minutes her shaking subsided and he felt an inkling of warmth glowing through the tangle of negative emotions he could sense.
Somehow, the simple physical contact helped, and Ky’ara was grateful for it. He was experiencing her grief—albeit in a removed sort of way—and she could feel his emotional response to her pain, even if he couldn’t express it. Taren was still gone. Joran couldn’t fix the wrenching feeling of loss she was experiencing, but his support helped her endure it anyways. It certainly wouldn’t last forever, but for now, it was enough.
Chapter 11: Finding Strength
Jace was tired. Weeks of making his way back to the capital had left him hungry, tired, and afraid. He'd encountered trolls twice, only barely escaping before they noticed him, and been accosted by villagers in the only town he'd tried to enter. Apparently the King's soldiers weren't very popular with the rest of the kingdom. He didn't even have another change of clothing to disguise himself with—it would raise too many questions when he reconnected with a command unit. He couldn't damage his uniform beyond recognition for the same reason. He needed it to validate his story.
He wearily pushed a tree branch out of the way and sighed with relief as he stepped into a clearing. Finally, someplace to rest. Suddenly a shadowy smudge appeared on the other end of the clearing. Jace dove behind a tree, anticipating an attack of some kind. Nothing seemed to happen, so he peered out from his hiding place as the smudge lengthened and turned into a widening line—like a rip in the air. What now?
A soldier stepped out of the opening and looked around the clearing, a dissatisfied frown on his face. He motioned with one arm, and a dozen or so other uniformed men and women followed him out of the shadowy opening. One of them led a small pony hitched to a cart, and when they finally turned enough for Jace to see what was in it, his insides twisted nervously. There was a prisoner inside it, and from the look of things he was either knocked out or dead. What's more, Jace was sure he recognized the man. Hadn't he been with the rebels? How in the Light had they captured him and then gotten so far ahead?
He shivered. There were rumors in the ranks of his former platoon that the King sometimes used arcane methods to move his troops. No one he'd known had ever been subjected to such a thing so he'd scoffed at the idea and chalked it up to just another piece of gossip. Silly superstition. But that shadow in the air...even as it faded Jace could swear he still felt something dark emanating from the area.
He shivered, ducking behind the tree completely and hoping no one had seen the movement. One way or another, he needed to decide how to react. He'd been hoping to avoid any army entanglements until he reached the capital and could report what had happened to his unit. It would be easier to feed the story of his escape to someone far enough from the events not to pick up on any inconsistencies in the timeline.
Then again, these soldiers felt...important. They treated the prisoner without any care for his safety, but they had dragged him all the way here through some sort of portal. If they were in a rush to get him back to the capital, he had to be significant. Jace decided to follow them and see if he could find out why. After all, he'd been sent to gather information, hadn't he?
* * * * *
Taren kept his head down and pretended he hadn’t regained consciousness. His nose throbbed and he couldn’t seem to focus his eyes properly—whether from a spell or an injury, he couldn’t tell. He strained to hear what his captors were saying. Something about being on schedule and estimating when they would reach the capital. He silently cursed the loss of his heightened senses. They couldn't possibly be nearing the capital already...unless he'd been knocked out for days rather than hours.
He felt a surge of panic at the thought of Ky'ara being without his protection for that long. She still has Joran. He's better suited to protect her now anyways. The thought didn't do much to lift his spirits. The boy was progressing, that was certain, but he was still so inexperienced...not that Taren's own years of experience had done him any good. Chasing down the mage by himself and running right into an ambush hadn't exactly proven to be the smartest move.
>
The cart he was crammed into went over a bump and his head jolted forward, nearly smashing his face against his knees. Well that explained the nose. He felt a trickle of blood run down the side of his face as the scab above his left eye cracked open from the movement. It could only have been a few hours since they'd taken him—he remembered getting that wound when he'd ducked a little too slowly early in the battle. If it had been a week already there's no way that would still be bleeding. The enemy must have some other mode of transportation similar to what Ky'ara had used only a couple weeks ago. A new sense of despair filled him as he realized that even if he did manage to escape, he was already too far away from the rebel camp to get back safely...most likely he'd be recaptured or killed before he even got close.
He still couldn't figure it out though: why had they taken him? If the battalion of soldiers had been sent as a distraction to capture someone, it made more sense for them to go after Calistra, Ky'ara, or even Joran. Why lure him out specifically? Had news of his skill in battle really travelled that far? Well the joke was on them then...he wasn't a threat to anyone anymore. He hadn't even managed to go unscathed during a simple skirmish with ordinary soldiers. He did know a fair amount about the rebels’ battle strategies and security protocols. Perhaps his capture had simply been opportunistic—they needed information and the simplest way to get it was to extract it from a captive.
An involuntary shudder passed through him. He'd experienced torture before; it wasn't something he relished repeating...and without the strength of his Link to Arys, he didn't know if he'd be strong enough to resist. Cold fear blossomed in his chest and instantly he hated himself for it. Light! He was still a Keeper even if his Druid was dead, and his training would hold. He would endure whatever they did to him and find a way to escape. He had to.
* * * * *
Calistra left one of her guards with instructions to keep a careful eye on the captive mage. She’d replaced the gag and tightened his restraints, just to be sure. He seemed harmless without his magic, but she’d heard reports of the things he’d done to Il’esandra’s political enemies...no one capable of that level of cruelty should be underestimated. He might fool someone else with his mildly irritating manner and feigned boredom, but she knew better. After leaving the tent, she sealed the space with a complicated spell and then went to take stock of what the battle had cost the rebellion.
The sick tent was full to capacity with injured soldiers. The healer in charge gave her an annoyed glance when she requested a quick casualty report.
"A lot more than it needs to be if you keep me away from my patients too long," the woman said crossly. Calistra narrowed her eyes. Did all healers have a problem with authority figures? She opened her mouth to call the woman out on it, then pursed her lips and shook her head. No use borrowing trouble. The healer was only trying to save lives.
"Just a quick estimate, then you can go right back to helping them," she said instead.
"Fifty or so dead so far, twenty in critical condition awaiting magic. A few with debilitating injuries not life-threatening, and nearly everyone else has a minor injury of some kind or other...most still need basic cleaning and bandaging. Now excuse me, I'm needed. "
Calistra let out a slow breath. The numbers were staggering, especially for a battle that should’ve been nothing more than a small skirmish. Whatever spell Iregh had used to enhance the soldier's combat had certainly been effective. Hopefully now that they held him captive, future battles wouldn’t be as bad. Fifty dead now, and probably a few more later...plus however many won’t be able to fight till they recover...Calistra shook her head. Another battle or two like this and they’d be in serious trouble.
She moved on to receiving reports from the three captains whose units had deployed. Their estimated casualty rates lined up with the healer's. The only good piece of news was that because the enemy soldiers had fought so single-mindedly, their death rate was much higher than it probably would have been otherwise. Injured soldiers hadn't dropped back to tend their wounds or favored their injuries to prevent blood loss. As a result, it looked like almost half of the enemy army had been killed.
They hadn't stopped to collect their wounded either, so the "cleanup" crew had rounded up a fair number of prisoners...of course, that just meant more work for the healers. Her own people would be treated first, of course, but war prisoners were entitled to medical care too—it wasn't their fault they were caught on the wrong side of this fight. Most of them were probably like Jace: just looking for a paycheck. They probably didn’t even know what this conflict was really about.
Calistra sighed. Their resources were already stretched too thin as it was...She needed to win over the refugees from this town and start recruiting and training from the other towns as quickly as possible. Luckily, most men in a small town like this would have their own bow or spear for hunting. They’d only need a little training on formations and protocols for fighting with an army, if only they could be persuaded to join the cause...Calistra smiled slowly. She knew just who to put in charge of recruiting and training a new unit of bowmen. Amischel’s newfound abilities were exactly what the rebellion needed right now. She turned back to her commanders.
“Captain Rintas, you’re in charge of overseeing the care and transport of the prisoners back to the main camp. Captain Mathan, keep your position here next to the city...I don’t want the villagers to forget what we did for them after they get back to their homes tomorrow. Captain Andruin, assemble your unit...all but the injured. We’ll be returning to camp within the hour.”
* * * * *
Lauryn stared at the tent, conflicted emotions freezing her in place. Her father was in there...her father. She'd given up any hope of seeing him again years ago...to have him suddenly here with her made her feel oddly sick. Her head was spinning and her stomach was in knots of anxiety. Mostly, she hated him for leaving. But some traitorous part of her hoped that somehow he had an explanation that would make his absence for the last ten years of her life acceptable.
"Are you going to go in or not?" Joran asked, eyeing her worriedly.
"I—I don't know." Lauryn answered honestly, eyes never leaving the tent. Joran's sister had sent a message inviting her to come speak with her father, should she so choose. But she only had a short time to decide since Calistra would be returning to the main camp soon and she was the only one who could undo the spell to allow access to the prisoner. If Lauryn didn't do this now, she wouldn't have another chance until Calistra returned to the battle camp.
"You don't have to. You don't owe him anything." Joran said. Lauryn glanced at him gratefully.
"I know...it's just, despite everything, he's still my father. Maybe I'm fooling myself, but if I can just ask him why..." she trailed off, closing her eyes and shaking her head, "It's a silly thought. I don't know why I thought this would help anything, let's just tell your sister no thanks and get out of here. I want a real meal and my own cot tonight."
"If that's what you want to do, let's go in and tell her then."
Lauryn hesitantly followed him into the tent. Calistra stood next to the guard, giving him explicit instructions for the care of the prisoner.
"Hey, Cal, we just wanted to tell you, she appreciates the offer—" Joran started.
"That I appreciate the offer and I'd like a few minutes with him if it's not too late." Lauryn rushed to cut Joran off, shooting him an apologetic look. If she let this chance pass by she'd hate herself for being such a coward.
Calistra nodded curtly, giving her a piercing look. "I'll give you five minutes. There's an invisible barrier spell set up three feet from the door, so we can talk to him with less risk to us. I have to stay in the room, for your own protection, but I promise not to interfere unless there's a safety issue...Joran will have to stay here."
"Really Cal, is that necessary?" Joran whined.
"Yes, it is," his sister replied, giving him a look that brooked no argument.
Lauryn nodded her underst
anding, slipping her hand out of Joran's and walking to the tent wall that divided the prisoner from the rest of them. Joran gave her a reassuring smile, then walked to the door to escape the stifling heat of the tent.
Calistra murmured a short spell and ran her hand along the fabric, making a door appear. She motioned Lauryn through ahead of her, and then resealed the opening behind herself.
Lauryn stood just inside the opening, watching the prisoner apprehensively. He was asleep, sitting on the floor with his head rested against the magically reinforced tent wall. He looked so...normal. Not really much different than how she remembered him...though her memories were fuzzy at best. He was smaller than she had thought as a girl, probably because she herself was much taller now. Funny how perspective changed things.
"I don't have much time, do you want me to wake him up?" Calistra said briskly, her eyes conveying that she understood how difficult this was. Lauryn nodded once, still lost in the sea of emotions and memories that threatened to drown her.
"Now what?" Iregh said groggily, lifting his head in response to Calistra's murmured waking spell. "I've already told you..." He caught sight of Lauryn and trailed off, studying her face with the barest hint of apprehension. "Hello Rinrin."
At the sound of her childhood nickname Lauryn balled her hands into fists, feeling all the anger and fear of an abandoned five year old girl come rushing back.
"Don't call me that. You lost the right to call me that the day you left us."
Iregh raised his eyebrows and then lowered them and tilted his head sideways to acknowledge her statement. "I understand, you're angry with me. I can't ask for your forgiveness, but in my defense I didn't know you'd end up an orphan on the streets."
"You didn't know?" Lauryn said incredulously, "How could that possibly be a good enough excuse? You knew you were leaving us to fend for ourselves! You must've known Mother would look for you! Even if she hadn't, she could've gotten sick and died. She could've been injured trying to work in the fields, or hurt by someone looking for an easy target...there are a thousand ways we could've been hurt by your leaving, and a hundred ways we were. Don't you dare try to make excuses."
The Druids' Legacy Page 17