Somewhere under the surface, the real him huddled, licking his wound. Raimie was content to stay buried forever, even through the poking and prodding, even through the shaking, jostling, and frustrated yelling.
The hand leading him along was pleasantly warm, a small bright contact to the outside world. Occasionally, food shoved into his hands, and they mechanically assisted his mouth with the process of eating. His body remained intent on surviving even if his mind had retreated.
Tiny sips of reality filtered to where he curled in a ball: the sound of stomping boots, familiar voices discussing plans with uncertainty, the smell of blood and alcohol.
When he least expected it, the sun bathed his body with its comforting caress. The return of fresh air and open skies was enough to break through. For the first time since he’d fallen into this hole, he was truly aware of something other than the deep wound ripping him apart. If he returned, could life distract him from what was wrong?
He curled more tightly around the wound, clenching to keep it from spreading. It wouldn’t be worth the effort to try.
Two hoarse voices dragged him kicking and screaming to the surface.
“Did we…” the first coughed, “did that break him?”
“If anything could, it’d be attempting something that stupid,” the second rasped. “Impressive, but very, very stupid.”
Fully aware once more, Raimie greeted anger like an old friend.
“What the hell was that?” he yelled indignantly, spinning on Bright and Dim.
The two flickered in and out of existence faster than his eyes could keep track. Their ragged clothes had torn in multiple spots, and the skin covering some few body parts had shed, revealing limbs of light and dark. Raimie almost dammed up his fury at their pathetic state, but their actions had caused too much misery. They needed to be brought to account.
“We’re in a place thought to drive people mad, and you start a fight? Are you kidding me?”
“We didn’t have control,” Bright tried to explain.
“I don’t give a damn whether you were in control. You don’t endanger this entire expedition with your actions!” Raimie screamed, advancing angrily on them.
“If I may,” Dim attempted to cut in, raising a hand.
“I’m not finished,” Raimie rolled right over the interruption. “I know you want something from me based off of the way you talk to me, the way you treat me. I’m not an idiot. But if you’d like me to give you whatever it is you want, I. Can’t. Be. Dead,” he punctuated each word by jabbing a finger in their faces, “and a really efficient way to accomplish that goal would be to STOP TRYING TO KILL ME!”
Once he’d finished, Bright and Dim warily watched him in the same way one would watch a crazed dog, bracing for a continuation of the tirade of angry words. He couldn’t bear to look at them.
“Get out of my sight!” he roared.
They hesitated, guttural flickering growing erratic. He took another step toward them, his body nearly merging with theirs.
“I said, get out of my sight!”
At last came the pop that Raimie had been waiting for, revealing the host of faces Dim and Bright had hidden. They stared up at him from around the campfires both beneath his feet and spread out between the trees. Moonlight filtered through the branches overhead to fill in the portions of the scene that the firelight couldn’t reach.
Each person within earshot made a perfect painting of shock, and Raimie’s stomach dropped at the number of faces turned toward him. He broke into a cold sweat, and the hair on his arms stood on end.
Thoughts chased each other as he worked out what he should do next. Was there a rational or even plausible explanation for why he’d been screaming at thin air? How far could he make it before the shock broke and Eledis sent someone to drag him back? He slowly retreated until one leg hit a tree.
“Raimie’s returned!” someone shouted victoriously from a distant campsite.
The men around the fire nearby shot to their feet as whispers and whoops spread across the gathered people. They advanced on him, and Raimie slammed his back into wood, heart leaping out of his chest. When they’d surrounded him, they immediately engulfed him in squeezing hugs and heavy shoulder taps. His fists clenched, and muscles tautened into steel and stone. Every pat, every embrace sent sparks of fire over his skin.
It seemed no explanation would be necessary, but in these people’s joy, they threatened to drown him in flesh. Between the gaps, Raimie glimpsed Eledis watching the celebration with arms crossed and face unreadable.
“All right, you lot!” Aramar shouted over the gleeful voices. “Let my son breathe!”
The gift of space left Raimie gasping. Idly, he covered his knuckles, wincing from skinning them further on the bark.
“Double rations tonight, men,” Eledis declared enthusiastically, “in celebration of Raimie’s recovery!”
Cheers filled the night, and the humans flooded to the Esela tasked with ration distribution. Blessedly ignored, Raimie’s legs gave out on him. He slid down the tree’s trunk until only his torso leaned against the bark. In the wake of the tensed up, high strung anger previously racing over him, the exhaustion lapping at the shores of his being raised its ugly head.
“Do you know what you’ve done?”
Raimie tilted his head to blink up at Eledis. Why was his grandfather so disappointed?
“That tear was fueling Allanovian’s economy. They were trading items that came through it for grain and other necessities. You’ve closed off their access to the only valuable resource they had!”
So it had worked. He hadn’t been sure even with the sight of human and Esela working in tandem again. If he’d closed the tear and his people had thereby escaped, then the cost might be worth it.
“Leave him alone,” Aramar approached with difficulty over the uneven ground. “What was he supposed to do? Let the tear influence us to destroy one another? Our own foolishness made Raimie’s actions necessary.”
Eledis huffed and stalked away, his coat flinging in a circle.
“I knew you’d come back to me, son, “Aramar quietly said. “You’ve always been the strongest of us.”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel so strong right now,” Raimie murmured sleepily.
“I don’t doubt it. You’ve done something unprecedented in human history. I’d imagine you’ll need time to recover.”
Aramar sat with him until Raimie yawned, the sudden intake of air catching him by surprise.
“I’ll let you sleep,” his father chuckled indulgently. “Good night, son.”
Raimie watched his little army celebrate and listened to the laughter and chatter. It made a nice change from the tense silence mixed with bouts of screaming of a few days previous.
The two races continued to naturally segregate one to the other, but the animosity between them had lessened. From what little drifted to Raimie, he was pleased to hear the Esela referring to humans by name. Maybe their small disaster beneath the mountain had forced both races to realize that they needed to work together.
The hours passed, and Raimie slowly slipped to the side. Eventually, his head and side hit the ground. He’d landed rather uncomfortably but couldn’t summon the strength to flip over. At least his mouth wasn’t covered, condemning him to breathe dirt.
After another hour, the arm he lay on tingled with pins and needles, and his topmost leg muscles burned from holding such an unnatural position for so long. Shuffling steps distracted him from the annoyances.
“May I join you?” a weathered voice asked.
Raimie was helpless to refuse the request, but he could intentionally fail to extend an invitation. The voice’s owner shuffled to the side. By the time his companion sat beside him, Raimie found the energy to move his eyes and inspect his new comrade.
Zetaneb meticulously arranged a walking stick and overstuffed pack in the dirt nearby. The silence stretched an uncomfortably long time. Raimie was happy to forego words entirely,
but Zetaneb’s incessant fidgeting belied his discomfort. Finally, he got around to articulating what was on his mind.
“That was an interesting speech you gave,” he began hesitantly. “Nice force of conviction behind it and appropriately chosen words. Despite the air of celebration, I believe your men now feel appropriately ashamed of their actions, so it accomplished its purpose. We should further discuss your cadence at some point. You’re delivering a lecture during a speech, not holding discourse between teacher and student. I’m tempted to accuse you of actually conversing with something unseen, but I’d rather chalk that awkwardness up to inexperience.”
He patted Raimie’s hand charitably. The contact of another’s skin on his own made it screech, each tap sending storms of fire over the back of his hand and fingers.
“Don’t touch me!” he yelped, yanking his hand away.
The expenditure of energy knocked him into debt, and he squeezed his eyes shut to block out the black specter of unconscious that haunted him.
“You’ve heard the rumors, I see,” Zetaneb quietly sighed. “What exactly are they saying about me now?”
Raimie’s confusion almost broke through his fight to stay awake. What was the old man talking about? He’d love to deny Zetaneb’s assumption, but it seemed like so much work.
“They’ve grown so large, have they? In that case, please allow me to explain.
“It’s true that I find men attractive in much the same way that women appeal to me, that all people do. Humanity is a beautiful species, and I revel in every facet of it. I understand that this makes many uncomfortable, but I can’t change who I am, and when others expect such change from me, their selfishness baffles me
“While I’m at it, I suppose I should put your mind at ease. You’re much too young for me, Raimie. You may have heard the rumor that I’m a lecherous old man who preys on his students, and in the past, there was indeed a student I was particularly fond of, but he’d reached his second decade before we even met. I was in my fourth, and people found the age gap between us disturbing. Perhaps the lack of understanding from his peers drove my student to the desperate act he took that haunts me still. My relationship with him is what sparked that particular rumor.”
Zetaneb broke off, allowing Raimie a chance to respond.
He swam to the surface of his exhaustion and managed to say, “I don’t care who you spend your time with. I’m tired,” before plunging into the depths again.
“I see.”
Raimie mentally rolled his eyes. Was his ambivalence that surprising?
The sound of clothes rustling against flesh and breath whooshing from effort indicated that Zetaneb had climbed to his feet.
“Maybe I should find that healer friend of yours,” he mumbled before his footsteps retreated.
While that might be a good idea, Raimie doubted Kheled could do anything more for him than resting quietly would. Still, he hoped the Eselan would come. At the very least, his company would be a comfort.
A noticeably lighter tread soon approached. It stopped beside his head and held perfectly still for several heartbeats.
“You look awful,” Kheled said.
Raimie peeled his eyelids apart and twitched the corners of his mouth sporadically. The inability to speak produced enormous disappointment. He had a wonderfully scathing response for the healer.
Kheled dragged him away from the tree and rolled him onto his back. The pins and needles intensified for a brief moment, and then cool relief swept down his arm.
The healer knelt as Raimie’s eyelids fell together again.
“You can sleep now,” he said. “Soon, your men will follow suit. In the meantime, I’ll stay with you. No one will disturb your rest.”
The sole reason Raimie had clung to consciousness as long as he had was on the off chance that someone pushed through the gaiety and decided to question him regarding his speech. He realized how idealistic it was to think that he could deflect suspicion concerning his sanity when he couldn’t even speak, but falling asleep while that slim chance existed seemed impossible. He took solace that even if he was perceived as mad, these people needed him if they ever hoped to accomplish their goal.
How was he going to explain indignantly screaming at thin air to his family? He could deal with the uncertainty and scorn of everyone else, but if his father looked at him with pitying eyes…
“Stop worrying about tomorrow, and get some sleep,” Kheled murmured quietly.
Was there a way to calm his anxious thoughts? They raced away from him, threatening to take over at any moment. The worry claimed his focus and…
With the shift of energy away from his battle against sleep, his adversary won.
* * *
When he came to in the space between dreams, the stranger’s hood hovered over Raimie, the hint of a face lurking within its depths. The stranger straddled his chest, long cloak draping over hips and legs. Cupped hands hovered inches away from Raimie’s neck, fingers twitching.
“What in the name of all that is sacred and pure have you done to us?”
The question reverberated deafeningly in the empty space.
“Us?” Raimie asked with a raised eyebrow.
The stranger’s abnormal intensity ebbed, and he sat back, lowering his hands to rest limply on Raimie’s chest.
“You have no idea what you have done.”
“Ended something that was pushing my men toward insanity?” Raimie asked questioningly.
It was the only significant event that had taken place since their last encounter. He had to assume that was what had the stranger so upset.
At least he knew that the stranger wasn’t another figment of his mind. His weight on Raimie’s chest made breathing a chore unlike the usual illusory feelings always encountered in dreams.
Before he could cautiously enquire whether the stranger might release the pressure, the hooded man clambered off and knelt by his torso. He sawed at the great band cutting under Raimie’s armpits.
“Why did you say us?” Raimie asked.
The stranger gave no reply, remaining exceptionally intent on his chosen task.
“Are you refusing to talk to me now?” Raimie asked, only a little desperate for a negative answer.
“I have no words for you at the moment. If I did speak, I fear what I might say.”
“You could tell me whatever’s on your mind. Alouin knows I’ve done the same to you on multiple occasions.”
The stranger distractedly tapped the flat of his knife against something hidden under the hood.
“No,” he decided, “it will be better for us both if I do not, lest I break the rules in my anger.”
“The ones set by the aforementioned mysterious person? Why would it matter if you broke them?” Raimie asked, feigning nonchalance.
He craved some explanation for the host of inexplicable events crowding his life. Most of them had open avenues of inquiry, but in this quasi-dream space, he was forced to rely upon slips of the tongue and unintentional revelations.
“If I break the rules, the spell reasserts its dominance, and I lose this chink in its armor through which we may speak,” the stranger answered in a straightforward manner for once. “I miss talking, Raimie.”
The answer to his question confirmed the suspicion he’d held for quite a while now.
“So we did know each other in the past.”
The stranger froze for a split second before rising.
“You should be sleeping, not spending your time in this prison,” he said, neither confirming nor denying Raimie’s accusation. “Your mind has spent enough nights here recently. On occasion, send it elsewhere when sleep comes for you.”
“How do I do that?”
The stranger exhaled with exasperation.
“You used to have such an extensive grasp of this!” he muttered while tilting his head back, hands on hips.
The hood almost fell away from his head, exposing whatever lay beneath, but before it could droop too
far, the stranger snapped its opening back at Raimie’s prone body.
“That is it! I refuse to break another tie until you have honed your skill again,” he declared. “I need the promise of respite from your company in the future.”
Miffed, Raimie pouted disconsolately.
“I can’t learn if I don’t know how to do it in the first place,” he complained.
“Not my problem,” the stranger said as he glided away.
“What, really? I don’t even get a hint?” Raimie yelled desperately after his sole source of companionship.
“You are attempting to return to dreams. How do you do that in the waking world?”
The stranger lifted a hand in farewell and blended with the black surroundings. Raimie grunted and pushed against the floor with his freed hands, needing to follow. After several seconds of resistance, he gave up, and the back of his head lightly smacked the black.
“Fine! Be that way!” he shouted to nothing.
He couldn’t stay trapped in this place for long before panic set in, so he might as well attempt to purposefully escape.
How did he find release in sleep when in reality? He closed his eyes and evened out his breathing. He felt silly doing it, but he even counted sheep. The monotony of breaths inhaled and exhaled to a predetermined rhythm allowed his mind to slip its restraints and fall into dreams.
* * *
His dreams held only nightmares.
Chapter Fourteen
Since our disastrous experiment, I’ve been trapped in the sway of Corruption. Every day, its madness overtakes more and more of my mind.
Kheled had come to the conclusion that his latest ally was absolutely terrifying. He’d followed Raimie when the kid had retreated from the fight even while it consumed everyone else. The image of Raimie holding both Ele and Daevetch’s energies as he melded them together and used the resulting force to close the tear would be burned into Kheled’s brain for years to come. Merely sitting in this human’s presence was terribly unnerving.
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 26