The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1)

by Brennan C. Adams

They hit the ground, and before his opponent could react, Raimie pinned the Eselan’s legs together with his knees. He jerked the trainee’s arms up and around against his back with the Eselan’s hands almost meeting the base of his neck and leaned his full weight against his opponent’s wrists with his left forearm. Shadowsteal grazed the floor off to the side on his right.

  For what felt like an eternity, Raimie knelt there, breathing hard despite the chest pain. The noise of a pin drop would have been deafening in the silence filling the room.

  Below him, the trainee’s face lay on the side, ground into the earth. His left eye fixated on the human, little puffs of air disturbing the sand.

  Black Raimie crouched to the right, hovering unsteadily over the trainee’s head. It jabbed at the Eselan’s temple.

  “Kill him!” it suggested, beaming up at Raimie as it poked to an irregular beat. “You don’t need another enemy.”

  White Raimie stood at parade rest to the left, staring dispassionately at the fallen trainee.

  “If you end him, you’ll make an enemy of this entire community. You’ve more than passed your trial. Get up, and walk away,” it advised.

  Raimie held his opponent’s gaze and saw the promise of death there.

  “You’re both right,” he murmured, and he raised Shadowsteal and smashed the pommel into the trainee’s temple.

  The Eselan’s eye rolled up into his head, and his breathing deepened. Raimie carefully stood over his opponent’s body, lightly tapping Shadowsteal to the Eselan’s bared throat.

  “Point.”

  The whisper was a deafening shout in the hushed chamber. He sheathed Shadowsteal, tiredly dragged his battered body to the room’s center, and folded his arms behind his back with feet shoulder width apart. Blood dripped from the multiple lacerations on his chest and arms and from the tip of his rib exposed to the air while he awaited the Council’s pronouncement.

  The overdressed Councilor cleared his throat and stood.

  “Congratulations. By the standards established for this first trial, you have passed. Someone will escort you to your accommodations while we prepare for the second.”

  He gestured, and a plainly dressed female peeled off from the crowd packing the slopes. She reluctantly touched his shoulder and gestured for him to follow.

  “Call the healers,” Raimie heard behind him as they passed through the stone doors.

  Eledis seemed relieved when both he and the Eselan woman returned.

  “You’ve passed?” he asked rhetorically. “Oh, well done you.”

  Raimie waved away the compliment, unbuckled Shadowsteal from his belt, and held it out to his grandfather. Once it was returned to the old man’s care, he stumbled to the far wall and slid to the floor. He explored his wounds with his fingers, stopping at his rib. Hissing, Raimie pushed it back into its proper place in his chest. He slumped against the wall, exhausted.

  Eledis knocked on the interior of the wooden door keeping them enclosed, and a Zrelnach female poked her head inside.

  “Mistress,” the old man said, bowing his head, “might I acquire a length of gut string and a needle? It appears I may have to play healer today.”

  She inclined her head in an affirmative and promptly closed the door behind her.

  “Self-righteous bitch,” Eledis darkly muttered. “Wouldn’t deign to say a single word.”

  Raimie blinked back the heavy weights on his eyelids. His grandfather came in and out of focus as his body remembered how early it was and that it was normally asleep at this hour. He fought to stay awake with every fiber, determined not to show any physical weakness to his grandfather or to any Eselan who might decide to pop in on the humans.

  Eledis asked a question, but Raimie couldn’t interpret whatever foreign language he was speaking. The old man blurred into the two figures standing beside him.

  Raimie slid to the right down the wall, fortunate to land on his relatively injury-free side, and his mind blissfully freed his body of the pain of his multiple cuts and bruises.

  Chapter Ten

  I must set this into writing before I lose myself again for when I next see you, I may not have control.

  Kheled hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep when they brought Raimie’s opponent to him. He wasn’t surprised to discover the Council had chosen Dath. Why wouldn’t they choose one of the most promising trainees to challenge a child that they wanted to fail?

  When Dath was laid out, the healer breathed a sigh of relief. He’d have to thank Raimie for knocking the trainee unconscious.

  “What happened, mistress?” he asked, turning to the aide who’d accompanied his patient.

  “The healers assessed his general condition, and finding no life-threatening injuries on his person, they sent the trainee here, him being a Zrelnach and all.”

  Kheled blinked and counted slowly to three.

  “I’m aware of why he’s here. Funny how there’s only one of me for the Zrelnach horde and so many of them for the pitiful remnants of the populace.”

  He faced the cot to hide his irritation.

  “In any case, mistress, I didn’t ask why he came to me. I asked what happened to him.”

  “Oh!”

  The aide seemed genuinely surprised by the question.

  “A human happened,” she replied as if that wholly answered his query.

  “And what did Raimie do to Dath?” Kheled asked, allowing the impatience to surface.

  “Well, the initiate-his name is Dath?”

  Kheled nodded frantically.

  “Dath clearly had the upper hand even with the human’s surprisingly adequate defense. The initiate downed the human, and we all thought it was over. But the human jumped Dath, pinned him, and brained him with its sword pommel. It was actually a rather impressive fight. I can see why so many rumors have been circulating about this supposedly rightful king of Auden.”

  Kheled pointedly did not roll his eyes at the aide.

  “Thank you,” he said, wondering briefly if he’d managed to hide the sarcasm.

  He fetched a lit oil lamp, peeled back one of Dath’s eyelids, and passed the bright illumination directly in front of the trainee’s eye. When the pupil constricted, Kheled returned the lamp to its place.

  “I assume you’re to bring a report to the Council?” he asked, not bothering to wait for confirmation. “Tell them Dath’s fine. He’ll have a massive headache when he wakes, but he’ll be fit for duty again in no time.”

  “Actually,” the aide awkwardly scratched her head, “I’m here for you. The Council has come to a conclusion regarding your latest infraction. They sent me to fetch you.”

  Well, now he looked like an ass. That was what emotions got you: trouble, always trouble.

  “I see. In that case, lead on mistress.”

  Kheled shouldn’t be this nervous trailing behind the aide. The Council’s decision wouldn’t matter in the long run. In a day or a week, he’d be leaving this place, abandoning his metaphorical shackles to rust on Ada’ir’s shore. Even knowing that, he couldn’t resist the shiver of anxious anticipation that ran down his spine when the aide brought him to a little-used room off the beaten path.

  “Thank you, Ona. That will be all,” Yrit gruffly barked at her.

  She bowed and backed away, leaving him alone with judge and jury. Only two Councilors were in attendance, Yrit and Ferin, and Kheled kept his lips tightly sealed, waiting for one of them to make the first move. Ferin quickly obliged.

  “Heya, Khel,” she said with a hasty grin, “sorry ‘bout the aide. I know you’re not fond of them, but we’re keeping the Zrelnach on alert to contain the humans in case your patient fails the trials.”

  “He won’t,” Kheled quietly asserted.

  “I’m glad you’re so certain,” Ferin replied. “Not all of us are. In any case, the first thing you should know is that you’re with me and as your friend, I’ve done everything I can to mitigate the consequences.”

  Fear ratcheted up from Kheled
’s belly, clogging his throat and paralyzing his limbs.

  “Then what’s he doing here?” he coughed, indicating Yrit. “That old man has been a thorn in my side since I first took refuge here.”

  “Ignore him,” Ferin firmly instructed the healer. “His presence is an irritating irrelevance right now. Keep your attention on me.”

  “If you insist.”

  “The human child has successfully passed the first test we applied to it which means the second trial must quickly commence before it has time to process the first,” Ferin continued. “You’re aware of what the test will entail?”

  “I distinctly remember what comes next from my own initiation into the Zrelnach, and I have to protest that a Joining will be an unfair trial to force Raimie to undertake,” Kheled said warily. “His human physiology will make it basically impossible for him to pass.”

  “Your concern for it is noted,” Yrit spat. “Get to the point, Councilwoman.”

  Ferin glared at the old Eselan, but the temporary illusion was already broken. Kheled couldn’t ignore Yrit now that the Councilor had spoken.

  “The point is that the council has reached a decision,” the Councilwoman continued through tight lips. “We’ve agreed that you’re innocent of those accusations leveled against you, but some council members have insisted on taking you up on your frankly idiotic offer.”

  The fear drained out of Kheled’s throat. He’d suspected from the way Ferin had phrased the beginning of her speech that the Council had been so incensed by his defense that they’d ordered his imprisonment or worse, but if they’d declared his innocence, he wasn’t too concerned about the rest. As long as he didn’t have to fight his way out of Allanovian, he’d be content.

  “Come on, Ferin. You know your fellow Councilors would never have declared my innocence if they didn’t have some way to salve their pride,” Kheled whined at the Councilwoman’s derisiveness. “So, what inconsequential punishment have they devised for me?”

  In the corner, Yrit tilted eagerly forward.

  “We’ve decided that the typical Joining won’t be sufficient for testing your patient’s aptitude as a potential commander and ruler,” Ferin started unwillingly. “Not only does it reveal an abundance of Zrelnach technique to the humans, but it doesn’t truly capture the essence of war. To that end, the Council requires a…. volunteer to give of his own experience. Someone who’s experienced the chaos of true battle personally.”

  The blood drained from Kheled’s face. He felt faint. Upon observing the healer’s reaction, Yrit laughed gleefully and clapped.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Kheled whispered, horrified.

  “Oh, we’re not asking,” Yrit smugly corrected.

  “If I can’t control which memory is taken, the Joining will destroy Raimie’s naïve belief in the good of the world. Despite your doubts, you have to realize that he could indeed be the one foreseen to return us to Auden. You’d allow the death of his innocence just to punish me?” the healer sadly asked of the Councilman.

  Yrit shrugged.

  “It’s only a human.”

  “Ferin?” Kheled pleaded, turning to the one who’d been his sole ally throughout years in this hostile place.

  “I’m truly sorry,” she refused to meet his gaze. “I fought as hard as I could, but I was overruled.”

  Kheled was left speechless. He could further protest the vindictiveness directed against him, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything of significance. Truth be told, he deserved it from the amount of sheer contempt and superiority he’d piled on the Council for all of these years. With his experience, he should have known better. But this… this was drastic.

  Forcing the giver of a Joining to relinquish a memory was the equivalent of forcing a human to walk through town completely naked, neighbors and friends encouraged to take part in the humiliation. The exposure……

  Kheled shuddered.

  Maybe he could make his escape of this place now, but no, a small unit of Zrelnach waited at the room’s entrance with weapons drawn.

  “If I do this without protest,” the words passed his lips with difficulty, “can I do it my way?”

  Ferin irritatingly deferred to Yrit’s judgment. The malicious old man grinned like a loon.

  “As long as you take your punishment, I don’t care how you extract the memory. I already got what I wanted. Watching that haughty face collapse into desperation will keep me warm many a night.”

  “If you have what you came for, would you please leave us, Yrit?” Ferin spat.

  The old Councilman spread his arms placatingly and retreated between the Zrelnach.

  “When do you expect this to happen?” Kheled asked her once they were alone.

  She grimaced.

  “We need it now, Khel.”

  “Of course you do,” the healer said, turning away from her.

  She extended the necessary vial, and he reluctantly accepted it. He unstopped it and downed its contents in one swig. Finished, he leaned his arm against stone, resting his forehead on it.

  How was he going to handle this? There were some memories that could easily be surrendered to serve this council’s purpose, but he was terrified that, in the process, he’d rip open deliberately buried recollections.

  “What do you need, Khel?” Ferin asked as she hesitantly laid a hand on his back. “You’ve always loved your lists.”

  “Have one of the goons fetch a chair with armrests, please.”

  Ferin waved a hand at the Zrelnach, never taking her eyes off of him.

  “You’re not angry with me, are you? I truly poured everything I had into opposing this decision,” she murmured quietly.

  Kheled wanted to blame her. The irrational part of his brain screamed at him to push her away, to damage her just as badly as he’d be by this punishment that even she thought he’d done nothing to deserve. Taking in her earnestly apologetic face, he realized how easy it would be to destroy her with a single rejection.

  “It’s not your fault,” he said instead. “What were you going to do, lead an insurrection against the other three and destroy Allanovian’s peaceful society in the process? My pride isn’t worth that.”

  Her eyes flooded, and he could tell she wanted to reassure him about his worth. He didn’t want to hear it.

  Thankfully, his requested item made an appearance before Ferin could speak her mind. Kheled busied himself arranging the scene and summoning what he needed from his clinic.

  “I thought you hated magic,” Ferin commented as she watched.

  “I do,” Kheled replied, “but I hate strangers going through my things and messing up my system of organization more.”

  He sat, rolled up his sleeve, and wrapped a leather strip around his bicep before offering the ends to Ferin.

  “Tie this off for me?” he asked. “It needs to be tight.”

  “Tell me what the plan is first,” Ferin answered, stubbornly refusing to budge.

  Kheled rolled his eyes, but he held up the syringe.

  “All you’ll need to do is carefully pull back on the plunger when I tell you to do so.”

  Now she approached, eyeing the syringe with fascination.

  “What is that?”

  “An idea I’ve been tinkering with for a while. Kara allows me access to the forge on occasion. I wanted something that could extract blood and other bodily fluids that didn’t involve leeches or cutting large holes in the skin, and this is what I came up with,” Kheled explained. “Please tie this off?”

  He thrust the leather ends toward Ferin, and she reluctantly accepted and yanked them tight.

  “You really are brilliant, Khel. You’re wasted here in Allanovian.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured distractedly, slapping the inside of his elbow.

  The compliment passed completely beneath his notice.

  Resting his forearm on the chair’s armrest, Kheled threaded two more strips around it and his arm, one near the wrist and the other
closer to his elbow.

  “And these?” he asked.

  Ferin secured these ties as well, effectively binding him halfway to the chair. The healer made a fist and delicately inserted the syringe’s needle into the blue line running under his skin. He released the tie around his bicep.

  “I must warn you,” he said, pointedly ignoring the metal and glass protruding from his arm. “You’re not going to enjoy what comes next. Because of my past, my mind has developed a… how do I put this… excessively high pain tolerance. To achieve the level required to force the extraction of the type of memories that your Council requests, I’ll have to do something rather unpleasant to this body.”

  He dug through his cloak pockets for the five final items he’d need.

  “I should be able to inform you of exactly when you can take my blood, but I haven’t done anything like this in a while. In case I become unresponsive, you need to wait until all five are in place, and you may have to continue for me. I’d very much prefer to do this once, so I need you to promise that you can finish if it becomes necessary.”

  She looked terrified now. Sometimes Kheled forgot how taking the mask off affected others. He’d need to calm her down before they began if he’d any hope of retaining her help for the procedure.

  “I’ll do my best, but what are you planning?” she asked nervously.

  Kheled smiled gently at her. The curl in his mouth felt unnatural without the rest of the mask glued into place.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be painful, and it might make you squeamish, but it won’t harm me. When it’s over, this body will be perfectly functional.”

  Ferin relaxed a little, and that was the best that Kheled could accomplish without the mask to help. Hopefully, she’d stay with him.

  He brandished a fistful of darning needles and situated four between his teeth, gripping the last between pointer finger and thumb. Who knew he’d ever feel gratitude for his height and how it forced him to constantly mend his clothes? He relegated his dread into a little jar in the corner of his mind, locking the lid tightly in place.

  Ferin had regained her fretting face, so Kheled puffed his cheeks, widened his eyes and crisscrossed them. She burst out laughing at the ridiculous picture, and while she was distracted, the healer slid the first needle under his thumbnail.