The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1)

by Brennan C. Adams

  Kheled paused, causing Raimie to trip over his feet. The healer waited for him to recover and then continued into one more set of exercises. Raimie was insulted that the Eselan thought he might be so easily distracted.

  “I followed you of course,” Kheled said after Raimie’s glaring broke him down, “You weren’t very subtle about which direction you were headed. So many broken twigs and crushed leaves! I’d thought a child of the forest would be better at erasing his trail.”

  “And you felt the need to follow me why…?” Raimie continued, breezing past the obvious attempt at banter.

  “You’d come through a traumatic event. No one should be alone after something like that.”

  “But why is it that you’re the only one who felt the need to keep me company?”

  Frustrated, Kheled halted the set halfway through and came back to resting stance.

  “Why don’t you ask what you really want to know?” he said stiffly.

  Raimie almost didn’t press the Eselan. Kheled must truly want to keep this knowledge from him given the resistance the healer had put up. Sometimes, he hated his voracious inquisitiveness.

  “What did I see in that horrible chamber? I was in Allanovian and somewhere else in the same moment. You were there at the same time as a small you. And there was a girl-”

  “Ren. Her name was Ren,” Kheled broke in.

  He put his hands on his hips and glared up at the forest canopy as if it held long sought answers. Without warning, the healer flopped to the ground and made himself comfortable. He gestured for Raimie to join him.

  “What you had the pleasure of experiencing today,” Kheled explained sarcastically, “is the most secret and sacred ritual of my kind. We call it Joining, an intimate ceremony observed between two devoted Esela such as spouses or close friends.

  “The giver imbibes a tonic which is allowed to circulate through the body. A blood sample is then extracted from the giver which is distilled into an aerosol or burnt as incense to be inhaled by the receiver. Once the sample is consumed, the receiver can experience a small part of the giver’s past.

  “During most Joinings, the shared memory is an exquisitely joyous or blissful event, but if the blood is extracted properly, it can induce a traumatic recollection instead. Besides this small manipulation, the memory is usually selected at random, but with experience, the giver can control even that. You should be grateful for what I was able to give you. It could have been worse.”

  The Eselan looked away, shifting uncomfortably.

  “In today’s Joining, you were the giver,” Raimie prompted. “Am I crazy to think that I wasn’t the only receiver? Several people in the crowd looked a little green at the end.”

  “The Council decided that your trials should be fully accessible to all Allanovian residents who wished to watch. So, yes. Everyone saw.”

  “But why you?” Raimie asked, ignoring the healer’s discomfort.

  Kheled shook his head.

  “Alouin, you’re an inquisitive one, aren’t you?” he met Raimie’s eyes.

  “It’s always been my greatest failing,” Raimie admitted, forcing himself to hold the Eselan’s challenging stare. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not.”

  Kheled’s lips puckered like he’d bitten into a lemon, but then he sighed.

  “You’ll find out from someone eventually, and I’d rather you hear it from me.

  “I was chosen for two reasons, the most basic being that a majority of the Council hates me. The other is a bit more complex, namely in that it deals with my origins. I told you that I came to Allanovian as a refugee, right? I was running from Auden.”

  “Wait,” Raimie cut in, “you’re from that place I’m supposed to liberate? I thought it was completely overrun by Doldimar’s servants ages ago, that it was unconditionally under his thumb. How could someone as well adjusted as you come from such a place?”

  Kheled snorted.

  “Well adjusted.”

  He shook his head ruefully.

  “For all intent and purpose, Auden is indeed Doldimar’s domain,” he agreed, “but the Dark Lord is fickle. He’s been in power for somewhere between two and three centuries and yet hasn’t found the time to destroy every cell of rebellion or to eliminate the populace’s hope and happiness.

  “My family: mother, father, sister; we lived in a village untouched by our overlord’s presence. We led a blissfully quiet life until… well, you partook in what happened the day it all came crashing down. I made it out, found passage on one of the rare merchant vessels to brave Auden’s shore, and made my way to Allanovian upon disembarking here in Ada’ir.

  “That’s why me. I’m the only living being within a hundred miles who’s set foot in Auden, and you needed a glimpse of the land you’re freeing.

  Kheled stopped speaking, leaving Raimie speechless once again. He scrambled for something to say, opening and closing his mouth as each possible response was considered and rejected.

  “I’m sorry,” was what he came up with before the silence stretched too long.

  “You’ve nothing to apologize for. It’s not as if you chose to be Auden’s future savior.”

  Raimie laughed.

  “No, I most certainly did not.”

  “Any other pressing questions?” Kheled raised an eyebrow and lifted one corner of his mouth.

  “No,” Raimie burst forth the denial, vigorously waving his hands to ward off further curiosity, “I think I’m done prying information from you, at least for today.”

  “Then, if we’re finished,” Kheled said, standing to his feet, “I’d like to move on to the final part of every proper training session: sparring.”

  He brought flat, parallel hands up in front of his face, spread his feet, and curled up on his abdomen.

  “Try to hit me,” he said.

  “You said that I can’t even throw a real punch!” Raimie protested doubtfully.

  “Doesn’t matter. Sparring is all about practical application. Take what you’ve learned from the exercises I’ve shown you today, and use it to hit me.”

  “Okay…” Raimie said, trailing off.

  He matched Kheled’s pose and hesitated.

  “I bet you can’t touch me,” the healer said, smirking behind his hands.

  Raimie smiled a cat-like grin right back at the Eselan.

  “Oh, you did not just say that! You’re on!”

  * * *

  The sky was darkening by the time they returned to Allanovian.

  “So what exactly am I gathering for you?” Raimie asked resignedly as they neared the giant, roaring waterfall.

  “I need aloe and chamomile for sure, but I should check my supplies before I give you a comprehensive list. Do you need me to show you what the herbs look like?” Kheled yelled over the water’s white noise.

  Raimie shook his head. Years playing in his own stretch of forest and perusing his grandfather’s books had at the very least taught him how to differentiate a plethora of healing herbs from the rest of the forest’s flora.

  “Why can’t you conjure what you need?” he complained once they could hear one another without screaming.

  “I could, but what’s the fun of a good bet if it doesn’t cause the loser a small amount of misery?” Kheled replied happily, clearly pleased with himself.

  Before Raimie could retort, a nondescript Eselan collided with them in the hallway, wringing his hands pathetically.

  “Oh, thank Alouin you’ve returned!” he exclaimed, completely focused on Raimie. “The Council won’t begin planning or preparations until you’re present. Eledis is furious! I’m afraid he may do something unseemly soon.”

  “Uh…” Raimie grunted, unnerved to have an unfamiliar set of those distinctive gray eyes on him.

  He glanced at Kheled and raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘They speak to me now?’ The healer dipped his head in response which reminded Raimie of the mask he was supposed to wear around subordinates. He wasn’t used to peopl
e occupying a lower rung on the social ladder. If it meant he had to act carelessly brave all of the time, he decided he didn’t like the higher status.

  “Take me to them. I suppose everything else on my plate can wait until I’ve sorted out the cranky elders,” he commanded, inwardly cringing at the imperious tone emerging from his mouth.

  “As you say,” the Eselan bowed slightly.

  He left Raimie in the dust in his haste to return to the Council.

  Raimie shrugged at Kheled, mouthing ‘Sorry, herbs later?’ The Eselan mouthed ‘You owe me,’ before going his separate way.

  Trotting to catch up to his guide, Raimie settled into a fast walk behind him. As they traveled deeper into the mountain than he’d been before, he marveled at Allanovian’s size. It must have taken generations to burrow so many corridors, rooms, and grand halls out of solid stone.

  “How long have the Esela occupied this part of the forest?” he asked, genuinely curious about the quandary.

  His guide flinched at the sound of his voice.

  “I… I honestly do not know,” he nervously replied. “That’s a question better suited for a historian rather than an aide such as I.”

  “You’re an aide? What does an aide do?” Raimie asked, wrinkling his nose.

  “I deliver messages, fetch experts, and perform any and all tasks that the Council requires of me.”

  “Ah, so you’re basically their servant,” Raimie said without thinking.

  Sometimes he cursed his runaway mouth.

  “That is an… accurate assessment. I don’t wish to anger the young master, but may we continue in silence? I’m afraid I don’t have many answers for you.”

  The aide seemed frightened of him which left Raimie officially baffled. First, these people wouldn’t even look at him, and now they were scared?

  To be fair, this was the first Eselan he’d encountered since the second trials’ conclusion, so maybe it had something to do with that. He shied away from that distressing topic before nausea and disgust took hold. It wouldn’t do to break down in front of an aide.

  “How much further?” he gruffly asked.

  “We’re almost there. In fact, you can hear them now.”

  Raimie could indeed hear raised voices ahead which grew steadily louder as they approached.

  “May I ask you a question, human?” the aide asked, continuing on at Raimie’s assent. “Are you a primeancer?”

  The Eselan asked the question so fearfully that Raimie could swear that he'd grown a second head in that moment.

  “A… primeancer? What's that?”

  Relief sagged the aide, and he shook his head.

  “Never mind, and please, forgive my presumption. I'm sure what I saw during your trial was a trick of the light.”

  “But…”

  He swiftly abandoned Raimie outside the strategy room before any more questions could be asked.

  Several different selections of maps hung on the walls of the long, narrow room, and lists full of numbers and figures cluttered a large slab of wood bracketed into the ceiling by long metal pilings and iron chains.

  The distant shouting heard in the hall hadn’t prepared Ramie for the cacophony of noise when he entered the room. He’d had no idea five people could produce such volume.

  Eledis stood on one side of the hanging table, a chair flung to the floor behind him. He jabbed his pointer finger at one of the papers scattered on the tabletop.

  On the opposite side, three of the council members hollered unintelligibly back at the old man. The fourth Councilor sat back and watched the proceedings with a twinkle in her eyes and the beginnings of a laugh on her lips.

  Raimie fixed a confident smirk on his face and waded into the argument.

  “All right, I’m here. What do you lot want?” he roared above the din.

  That quieted the squabbling quickly enough.

  “Grandson, I’m attempting to discuss the logistics of getting our rapidly swelling mob from point A to point B, but…” Eledis began.

  “Yes, and demand more Zrelnach than we can spare, leaving Allanovian defenseless,” a white-haired Councilman protested.

  Eledis huffed.

  “Regardless of my reasons for being here, the esteemed Council refuses to negotiate unless you‘re present or appoint a representative in your place,” he said, raising his eyebrows significantly.

  Raimie evenly met each council member’s eyes and jerked a thumb in his grandfather’s direction.

  “He’s my representative,” he told them.

  “Wonderful!” Eledis exclaimed with relief. “Now if we could focus on those matters essential to our survival…”

  He trailed off as Raimie wandered to the head of the table and took a seat there.

  “I said you could represent me, not that I was leaving,” Raimie said in answer to his grandfather’s confusion. “Where should we start?”

  “Perhaps we should discuss why a relatively uneducated teenager should sit in on such an important negotiation,” Eledis hissed, clearly annoyed at his rapid gain and loss of authority.

  “Yes, let’s begin there,” Raimie replied, nonplussed. “Let’s start with the conundrum that is me. Less than a month ago, I was happy to lead the quiet life of a farmer: have a family to love me, work to occupy my days, and a home to return to every night. I contented myself, despite my longing for more, with the trickle of knowledge that I could glean from my grandfather’s books. Then, Shadowsteal chose me to lead an impossible quest, and the discovery of my destiny shocked and infuriated me. What I’d learned over the years hadn’t prepared me nearly enough for the challenges I’ll face.

  “I find it difficult to believe that someone as ill prepared as me was the one chosen, but that’s how this supposedly infallible prophecy has played out. My only question for those at the table is this. Are you going to help me fulfill it, or are you going to get out of its way? Because, as I’ve learned the hard way, you can’t hinder prophecy.”

  Raimie stared down his grandfather as the old man struggled through surges of hatred and grudging admiration.

  “Well said, young one!” one of the middle-aged Councilman burst into brief applause. “Maybe your lack of education could be solved with a tutor? Allanovian is more than willing to provide one.”

  The conciliatory gesture discharged much of the tension. Eledis released Raimie’s eyes and smiled at the Councilor.

  “What a wonderful idea! I’ve had someone in mind for quite some time, but a second tutor would be immensely helpful. Who did you wish to nominate?”

  “That would be me,” the female Councilor replied, lifting two fingers off the arm of her chair.

  “Ferin!” her fellow Councilors gasped.

  Even Eledis seemed a bit appalled at the choice. Raimie certainly didn’t like it. He struggled not to judge her character from the fact that she’d presided over the second trial and doubted that accepting her tutelage would improve his opinion very much.

  “Oh, don’t pretend you wouldn’t be pleased if I vacated my seat,” Ferin told the councilmen with disgust. “You’ve been dreaming of the chance for a unanimous vote for years.”

  Dismissing them, she leaned her elbows on the tabletop, fingertips covering the lower half of her face.

  “I’m the best tactician between here and Auden. I’ve lost count of how many times Queen Kaedesa has asked me to disperse a rebellion for her while also keeping my involvement quiet.

  “Do you want Raimie to defeat Doldimar? You’ll need me because screaming and rushing an overconfident opponent won’t work in the midst of true combat.”

  Her eyes flicked to Raimie on the last few words, and he fought back the desire to leap across the table and strangle the woman.

  “I’d be honored to study under you,” he said with a tight voice, effectively ending the discussion.

  The three Councilmen looked displeased, but they didn’t protest. Raimie imagined that Ferin would receive a thorough dressing down after the
meeting and had to admit that the idea pleased him a little.

  “Can we talk logistics now?” Eledis asked, rolling his eyes at the delay he alone was responsible for.

  “Certainly.”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Two council members spoke over one another, each glaring at the other for the perceived interruption.

  “This is our proposed route,” Eledis said, drawing his finger across a map on the tabletop. “If we go around the mountains, there’s a possibility that we make it to a town large enough for trade before our provisions run out. Even assuming we can accomplish such a feat, we should prepare to lose troops to starvation and possibly desertion. The forest can’t be counted on to provide nourishment for our small army, and we can only take so much from Allanovian itself.”

  “Not an auspicious beginning,” Ferin commented. “Morale will plummet quickly.”

  “Why can’t we take this path?” Raimie asked, pointing at a line that cut straight through the mountain range.

  “No, that route is quite impossible,” a council member scoffed. “Better to stick to the path around.”

  Everyone else nodded agreement, a mix of amused and indulgent expressions spread all around.

  “And why is that?” Raimie asked curiously.

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Uneducated,” Eledis replied, shrugging.

  Raimie tried not to let the shocked silence affect him greatly. How could he be blamed for an ignorance that no one else had ever thought to clear up, after all?

  The graying council member cleared his throat and attempted to explain.

  “There is a… tear beneath this mountain.”

  Raimie immediately struggled to follow along after only the first sentence. With no context clues, he was forced to speculate about what was meant by a ‘tear’. He couldn’t ask. He already looked too much the idiot.

  The Councilor drove on without pause, and Raimie scrambled to keep up.

  “It’s not nearly as large or cataclysmic as the Accession Tear, but similar effects have been observed near ours. A dissonance of foreign noises, freak underground weather, and even the occasional appearance of creatures both familiar and strange top the list of oddities.