The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1)

by Brennan C. Adams

  At this point, Kheled existed within a fog. He vaguely remembered collecting his rushed order from the smithy, conversing with Ferin during a break in the Council’s deliberations, and picking up dinner from the canteen, but he had to be missing events because what he could remember didn’t account for the length of time that had passed.

  He was finally, FINALLY, on his way home when a scrawny Zrelnach initiate stopped him in the corridor. If looks could kill, that kid would be a cold corpse ready for burial.

  “Healer… Kheled… sir…” the initiate flipped through all of the applicable titles before settling on the safest one, “the human boy has vacated your clinic and is currently being detained outside the common room. We need you to retrieve it.”

  “One of you can’t escort him back the short distance he wandered?” Kheled blearily asked, enunciating each word as clearly as possible to avoid slurring.

  The initiate frantically shook his head.

  “We’ve received express orders from the Council that you’re the only Eselan it may interact with pre-trials.”

  Kheled cursed under his breath.

  “Fine,” he snapped. “I’ll take care of it.”

  The initiate fearfully cleared a path for him. Anger held back the fog momentarily, at least until he accomplished his goal of isolating Raimie once again. The familiarity of mixing medicines brought it back on, and he fought to keep a clear head until the sleep tincture had taken effect on his patient.

  One good thing to come from this unusual length of time without sleep: perhaps this extreme exhaustion would drive the nightmares away for once.

  When Raimie was lost to dreams, Kheled joined him. He landed front first on his cloud of pillows and sheets, not even bothering to remove his soiled clothing, and immediately lost consciousness.

  Chapter Nine

  I couldn’t contain my apprehension as the family butler escorted me down the expansive hallways and corridors of Arivor’s family home. My friend had invited me to dinner after class today, which wasn’t in itself unusual, but he’d told me to make myself as presentable as I possibly could, reinforcing a task that he already knew I completed before every visit. He’d seemed extraordinarily excited about the meal, only just holding back from spoiling his surprise.

  I’d followed Arivor’s advice. I was dressed in my school uniform, had forced a freezing cold bath on myself, and found a neighbor who was willing to lend me a sharp knife so that I could shave. I’d tried to tame my hair, but as usual, the awful mop only turned into frizz on my head. There was no way I could hide the scabbed over cuts and yellowing bruises that Casey and his gang had left me, so I ignored them.

  I was as prepared as I could be appearance-wise. Now, I could only hope that I wasn’t walking into an unmitigated disaster. Arivor had an especially mischievous sense of humor. He loved pranks and thought it was the greatest fun of all time to sneak frogs, spiders, or other creepy crawlies into girls’ hair and clothes. I’d often been his accomplice on these laughs, and from that experience, I knew that I didn’t want to be the recipient of one of his jokes.

  We arrived at the dining room door, and the butler announced me before allowing me into the room. At first, I was relieved. My friend, his mother, father, and little sister sat around a table heavily laden with enough food to feed my entire sector for a week. All of that was pretty standard for dinner with Arivor’s family. The additional guest, however, was out of place, and my heart nearly stopped upon seeing him.

  Councilman Reive was the most powerful member of the city’s ruling body. He had the entirety of his fellow councilors under his thumb, allowing him to make and break laws as he saw fit. He’d accomplished many great things for our city: public running water, a truce with the human kingdoms, and an increase in the budget of the city guard which had lowered crime. He wouldn’t tolerate corruption in his government, going so far as to exile officials for taking bribes, but he was also the reason that our class system was so rigid, making it virtually impossible for a kid from the slums to do anything but waste his life there. I could never make up my mind if he was a wonderful leader whom I should love and respect or a bigoted ass whom I should hate.

  Regardless of my feelings for him, Reive was powerful, and I bowed as low as I could when I saw him, almost prostrate on the floor. My thoughts raced. Would he see through my disguise as no one else had and banish me back to my ‘rightful’ position, never to see my friend again?

  The Councilman chuckled indulgently.

  “There’s no need to bow. We’re here to celebrate what you did for my nephew. Today you’re the honored guest, Erianger.”

  Straightening, I sat where indicated to do so. I dazedly participated in the meal; accepting congratulations, answering questions, and mechanically bringing food into my mouth. When we’d finished, a cadre of servants descended upon the table, clearing it of dishes, silverware, and leftover food. Arivor’s family insisted on chatting, to my despair. Eventually, I excused myself.

  In a tiny wash closet of the beaten path, I tried to still my speeding heart and even out my breathing. I met the eyes of the stranger peering back at me from the mirror and suppressed a yelp.

  My transformation was quite impressive. I looked high class, not like the insignificant street kid that I was, and upon inspection, I couldn’t detect the panic bubbling under the surface.

  Clearing my throat and slapping my cheeks, I washed my hands and stepped out to rejoin the others. Councilman Reive waited mere inches from the door, his hands calmly clasped behind his back. I nearly jumped out of my skin.

  “We need to talk,” he said before striding off.

  I hastened to follow. We ended up in a dark study with an impressive amount of books stuffed into the shelves lining the room. I surreptitiously peered at the spines, hoping to find a volume I hadn’t read yet.

  “Your thirst for knowledge will get you in trouble one of these days,” Reive commented. “Come and sit.”

  I joined him in one of leather chairs in front of the fireplace. We sat in silence for several minutes while Reive stared at me over steepled fingers and I shifted back and forth. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, he relieved the tension and spoke.

  “I don’t know how you’ve gained Arivor’s friendship. I’ve sent so many of my toadies’ sons to try to accomplish that feat that I’ve lost count. However you managed it, I don’t care. You seem pleasant enough and appear to have no real ambition, so I’m not opposed to your friendship. I’ve great plans for Arivor, however, and because of that, I feel I must warn you. If you do ANYTHING to harm my nephew’s reputation, I will destroy you. I’ll send you back where you belong with your whore of a mother and your lazy, good-for-nothing neighbors, and you’ll never leave that sector again for the rest of your life.”

  If I let my fear show, it would probably save me, but I’d never been one to expose weakness. I focused on anger instead.

  “What makes you think I’m afraid of you?” I asked defiantly.

  “If you’re fearless right now, then you’re not as smart as I’ve given you credit for,” Reive answered, “but I suspect that you’d never admit such weakness to me.”

  The Councilman regarded me contemplatively.

  “I like you, Erianger,” he said. “If you maintain this relationship with my nephew and you don’t bring embarrassment upon his family, I may have a job for you that will move you out of your current sector.”

  I opened my mouth to forcefully refuse.

  “Don’t answer me yet, or you’ll say something you regret,” Reive interrupted before I could say my piece. “I’m going to rejoin my family. In a few minutes, you’ll follow me to make your goodbyes and then leave. Stay on your best behavior, and we’ll see what opens up for you once both you and Arivor graduate.”

  He made it to the door before speaking again.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Erianger.”

  I was left trapped, not even slightly tempted to peruse the treasure of knowledge su
rrounding me.

  Raimie couldn’t avoid all of the water thundering over the cave’s mouth when he squeezed between the stone wall and the waterfall, but he managed to contact only a spattering of rogue sprinkles.

  Taking a deep breath of fresh air, he shivered to feel a cool breeze caress his face, to smell the forest, and to experience open sky above his head after two days trapped underground.

  He nervously searched for some indication of where he was to head next. The glow of campfires partially concealed by the trees led the way. He’d no way to judge the amount of forest he’d need to traverse as the trees were extremely dense and easily obscured any point of reference. Hopefully, it would be less rather than more.

  Raimie hiked in the general direction of the man-made light, plunging almost immediately into the brush, roots, and bushes. A towering mountain loomed behind him, hiding Allanovian within its depths, and several other ridges peeked behind its shoulders.

  The campfires didn’t come any closer for the longest time, but eventually, Raimie stumbled into one of them. Several men lounged around the flame wearing varying types of armor from leathers similar to those the Zrelnach sported to a loose combination of plate and mail. They were armed mainly with swords, but there were exceptions, most notably one man’s shield and mace combination. The entire group radiated an aura of danger and violence thinly concealed beneath a veneer of civility.

  The conversation hiccupped when Raimie stepped into the light, and most of the men visibly tensed. They seemed content to ignore him while he passed through although a couple stared at his strange assortment of armor and clothing with perplexity. Feigning nonchalance as best he could, Raimie approached the blaze, swallowing his newfound terror of fire. His hands imperceptibly shook when he held them toward the flame as if to warm them, patched together palms plainly visible to all who took the time to look.

  “I’m looking for Eledis,” he said, surprised at how confident his voice sounded.

  A skinny kid proudly clutching a rusty sword shifted forward.

  “What do you want with him?” he demanded with a sneer.

  “I’ve been summoned,” Raimie answered, adding slight annoyance to his own voice. “I’d rather not keep him waiting, so again, where is he?”

  “Thataway,” an older gentleman replied.

  He vaguely pointed into the forest, and the rest of the group joined him one by one, each adding a grin or a smirk that sent shivers racing up and down Raimie’s spine. Deciding not to push his luck, he nodded his thanks and quickly moved on, his pace almost matching a run once he was out of sight.

  He passed campfires with increasing frequency as he moved along but never built the confidence to again approach and ask for directions. Just as he was beginning to despair of finding his grandfather that night, he emerged onto the outskirts of a large clearing packed with humans and their accompanying campsites. A large tent dominated the center of the clearing, and Raimie knew exactly where he’d find Eledis.

  Felled trees hemmed the raucous activity in with two openings allowing passage back and forth. A few well-equipped men guarded the breaks in the trunks, intently screening each passerby.

  Raimie approached the closest gap, hoping he’d maintained the aura of calm and confidence that he’d pinned into place outside of Allanovian. Twenty feet from the gap, the two guards keeping watch picked him out from the trickle of humans passing between and immediately drew their swords.

  “Halt, Zrelnach!” one shouted loudly. “Hands where I can see them!”

  Dozens of pairs of eyes focused on Raimie, and he slowly raised his hands above his head.

  “I’m unarmed,” he said, inclining his head to his empty sheath and quiver.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Both sentries cautiously approached him, one hovering a few feet behind the other.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, you bastard. Your Council should have made it explicitly clear that we have their permission to camp and arm ourselves so close to your city and that we didn’t want to see another of your kind again before we leave.”

  Raimie uttered not one syllable, leery that his protests might change the situation from a tense interrogation to armed conflict. He didn’t like his chances in such a fight considering his lack of weapons and the additional enemies watching and waiting in the wings for the chance to join in. Instead, he allowed one of the guards to search him once they were in range, keeping his hands and body motionless and holding back a pained gasp when the sentry roughly brushed over his broken ribs.

  Halfway down his torso, Raimie remembered the knife. Alarm shot through him, and he desperately oscillated between fighting and running much the way that his perception of what the guards would do when they found the weapon swiftly vacillated. When the searching hands hovered just above the boot the knife hid inside, the idle sentry tsked and drew in an annoyed breath.

  “He’s one of us, Joth,” he said, waving for the younger man to back off. “Look at the eyes.”

  The sentry who’d been searching him stood to the side. His companion stepped closer and raised his torch, and Joth stared into Raimie’s eyes and crossed his arms.

  “What are you thinking, you idiot? You trying to prove you’re some sort of badass wearing their armor? You should change before you get yourself lynched.”

  The gathered audience dispersed now that the chance for violence had passed. Raimie lowered his hands and rubbed his stiff shoulders.

  “This was the only attire I could get my hands on,” he said with an apologetically sheepish smile.

  The guards looked disbelievingly down their noses at him. They peeled apart, clearing the way, and extended one arm each toward the bustling crowd.

  “Humans are free to come and go as they please,” one said.

  “Be careful in there,” the other added.

  Raimie waded into the sea of humanity. He attempted to travel in a straight line toward the central tent, but such a path was impossible with the disorderly placement of makeshift campsites and cook fires. He clung to the image of the dutiful young champion as he passed through the mass of men and some few women. The startled glances thrown his way were of greater intensity than Raimie had expected, and a low roar of whispers rose behind him.

  He broke from the crowd unexpectedly close to the tent. Two cloth flaps had been drawn to the side, making a small opening in the canvas, and another pair of sentries stood guard here as well. Raimie pointedly ignored the guards as he strode forward, preoccupied with his plan to dupe his grandfather.

  A hand shot out to rest on his chest, and Raimie halted to peer down at the offending appendage.

  “Who are you, and what is your business with Eledis?” the man who’d stopped him asked.

  Raimie turned his weighty gaze upon the guard.

  “That’s twice I’ve been blocked from speaking with my grandfather. I’d suggest you take your hand off of me before you regret it.”

  The man snatched his hand away and hugged it to his own torso.

  “You’re the prophesied one?” he asked fearfully.

  “I’m Raimie,” Raimie answered, puzzled at the guard’s level of fear, “and Eledis, the man I’m hoping to find inside this tent, happens to be my grandfather.”

  “For Alouin’s sake, let him in,” Eledis’ voice called from within the canvas walls.

  The guards hastily stepped aside. Raimie couldn’t resist raising his eyebrows at each of them as he passed.

  The tent’s low-hanging ceiling brushed the top of his head, prompting him to duck. Its canvas walls were supported by poles flexed against the interior along with a set of beams pulling against the exterior, all held in place by a network of ropes connected to stakes pounded into the earth outside. A short cot with a light blanket thrown haphazardly across its surface took up a small corner of the enclosed floor space, but the majority of it was engulfed by tables smothered with parchment, quills, inkwells, and even one or two sheathed weapons. Two more cot
s were shoved behind the table, almost as an afterthought.

  The last cleared section held three simple chairs, and Eledis perched in one conversing with Raimie’s father. From behind, the old man seemed to have gained an air of command in the three weeks he’d been absent. Shadowsteal leaned against the back of his chair, the hilt wrapped in cloth to conceal its true nature. Aramar had chosen to sit in his strange, wheeled chair instead of one of the normal seats beside it, his face stormy as he listened to the old man talk.

  It would be so easy to fall back into the carefree role that Raimie had filled in the past, but circumstances had changed. First of all, whatever trust may have implicitly existed between him as the youngest and the other two as the elders had been obliterated upon the revelation of the enormous secret they’d kept from him for his entire life. On top of that, he couldn’t survive in his former role with how many eyes rested upon this family now. The façade would have to change.

  Keeping that in mind, Raimie masked his nervousness as he approached and claimed the chair between the two men.

  “Hello, father!” he greeted Aramar first before addressing Eledis. “Grandfather, I never thought we’d meet again. It warms my heart that you’ve kept your promise and haven’t died yet!”

  “It’s good of you to finally join me,” the old man replied. “I’ve been hard at work in your absence. At the end of the third week without news of my grandson’s arrival, I’d begun to despair that I was recruiting soldiers in vain.”

  “All of those men out there work for you? How many naïve youngsters did you snare with the empty promise of wealth and glory?”

  Such hostility would be new to his grandfather, and perhaps it would put the old man off guard.

  “Just under six hundred and fifty, some mercenary and some naïve youngster as you put it, and my promises won’t be empty if we manage to overthrow Doldimar,” Eledis answered, his face pulled into a pout to protest Raimie’s cynicism. “What happened to the clothes I sent for you?”