“Yes, sir, and I don’t think the assassin will give up after one failure.”
“My scouts range outside the camp in a mile wide radius,” Eledis mused as he took a step toward Kheled. “I’m confident they would have caught an intruder which means…”
“It was someone within our ranks,” he finished for the old man. “I may be wrong. Raimie may have decided to go adventuring without consulting anyone, but in case I’m correct, I believe assigning trusted soldiers to guard him round the clock may be in order. Sir.”
Eledis remained lost in thought. Again he made to leave.
“And sir?” Kheled stopped the old man one more time. “I don’t want your praise or rewards. I’m only doing my duty.”
Eledis’ eye twitched.
“As you say, Healer.”
Kheled allowed the old man to depart. It was time to deal with an assassin.
* * *
After making several inquiries, he located his prey. He advanced on the group of Zrelnach chatting around the fire, making a beeline for one in particular. A step away, Kheled said a single name, and his prey turned to answer.
He buried his fist in Dath’s face, causing the Zrelnach to stumble.
“Are you stupid?!” he screamed down at the youth, saliva flying into Dath’s hair.
Kheled cuffed him upside the head as the Zrelnach rose to his full height. He got up into Dath’s face, staring him down.
“It’s all right, my friends,” Dath said, waving for the aggressively arrayed Zrelnach behind him to stand down. “Kheled and I need to work out some issues, is all.”
He gestured toward a relatively isolated campsite on the outskirts. Kheled stiffly led the way. Once at the site, Dath unfolded comfortably and relaxed against a cart’s wheel. Kheled chose to remain standing.
“Hemlock poison? Really?” he hissed at Dath. “You used the same mixture that killed Lyli to try to murder a kid? A prophesied child? Are you mad? Do you know what the world might have done to right the course of history had you succeeded?”
“I take that to mean he’s alive?” Dath asked, inspecting his fingernails.
“Yes, thank Alouin! Otherwise, you might not have a chance to get away.”
For the first time that evening, real emotion flooded Dath’s face.
“Wait, you’re not angry that I attacked your golden child?”
“Of course I am! I’m livid!” Kheled growled. “But I also know why you did it, and I think I understand. You’re essentially a good kid at heart, Dath. Go back to Allanovian before they figure out who the culprit is. Live your life. Advance in rank and learn to love again.”
Indecision passed over Dath’s face, but he quickly shook his head.
“That won’t be possible,” he said regretfully. “My orders are to stay here on standby. Until I receive instructions otherwise, that’s what I intend to do.”
Kheled stiffened.
“Orders?” he asked. “From whom?’
Dath seemed amused to be in possession of information that the normally self-assured healer did not.
“Not all of the Zrelnach are pleased with the council’s decision to send such a significant number of our brethren on this fool mission,” he smirked. “Our loyalty, after all, should be first and foremost to Allanovian and its protection. We seek to eliminate the need for so many Zrelnach to leave the city.”
“So your friends sent someone desperate to see Raimie dead to kill him,” Kheled said softly. “Someone who apparently has no qualms with using the dishonorable method of poison to accomplish his goal.”
Dath bolted upright and shoved a finger in Kheled’s face.
“That brat stole my chance of ever taking Ferin’s place as commander. I wanted revenge.”
“And did you get it?” Kheled asked, unflinching in the face of the Zrelnach’s ferocity.
Dath snarled and flung his hands at the wagon. He slammed his palms on the bed’s lip and leaned over, arms outstretched.
“I thought I had,” he snapped, “and it didn’t feel nearly as nice as I’d expected.”
“It’s not his fault,” Kheled stated, anger simmering beneath the surface at the memory of Raimie’s lifeless body lying on a cot. “None of it is. He would’ve been horrified at Lyli’s death, and he most certainly didn’t want to participate in the trials. All he’s done is fight for his survival.”
Dath spun around and extended his arms to either side as if welcoming a fight.
“What do you want me to say? I’m sorry?” he slapped his hands against his thighs. “Because I am! I’ve never regretted something so much before in my life, but that doesn’t change anything. I haven’t abandoned my loyalties. If anything, Raimie convinced me further that he needs to die. As long as he’s alive, all Esela on this continent are in danger.
“Did you know he can use magic?” Dath’s face seemed to say that was all the explanation that was needed to justify murdering the teenager. “Not just any magic but something eerily similar to the descriptions of primeancy? But that’s not what matters. What does is that there’s a human thaumaturge in the world now. Every single time that’s happened in the past, it’s followed by a mass extinction of the Esela, something that will affect all the people we’ve ever known or loved. I can’t let that happen!”
Kheled wordlessly stared at the Zrelnach, letting the silence tell Dath exactly what he thought of his justifications.
“I can promise that I’m not going to attack him again,” Dath continued. “I’ve lost my taste for revenge, and he’d see me coming from a mile away in any case. I’d be the most ineffective assassin ever. That’s all I can do for you, Healer. I will do my best to hinder this ragtag army’s progress, and I will continue to do anything I can to foil Eledis’ plans.”
Kheled shook his head in despair. There was nothing more to discuss. He wouldn’t report Dath, couldn’t bring himself to condemn the kid to Eledis’ wrath, and besides that, if Dath stayed undetected long enough, he might lead the healer to the mastermind of this plot.
“Let me give you some advice for whatever friendship we might have had,” Dath interrupted his reverie. “You might want to heed your own wisdom and leave while you still can. There will be a slaughter when the Queen arrives.”
The blood drained from Kheled’s face.
“I have to go,” he whispered, spinning and quickly marching back the way he’d come.
“What are you going to do?” Dath asked with amusement, dogging the healer’s every step. “Inform Eledis that an indeterminate number of Zrelnach in his ranks are leading a rebellion against him and his precious grandson? With his excessive hatred of Esela, he’ll use his motley band of humans to exterminate us all!”
Kheled stopped in his tracks. Dath continued on a few more steps before he registered the halt.
“I can’t leave Raimie to certain death. He’s my friend.”
It felt strange to say those two words in the same sentence and mean them.
“He’s the only person in decades who hasn’t attempted to befriend me because of my abilities or out of misguided love or to satisfy a dare.”
Dath’s shocked expression was almost amusing.
“You thought I didn’t know about that, didn’t you? Kid, I always look into the people who are kind to me. I knew about the dare before you came looking for a shoulder to cry on when Lyli died. Raimie’s the first to seek my friendship simply because of who I am since…”
The suppressed memory clawed to the surface, and Kheled gasped at the influx of grief, regret, and rage that accompanied it. He violently shook his head, shoving the memory to the side.
“He’s my friend,” he whispered, eyes fixed on his feet. “I don’t betray my friends.”
“Fine,” Dath said, settling back into indifference. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He stomped to his friends by their fire.
Kheled pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled a long, pent-up, annoyed breath. Why, for the love
of everything holy, did it always have to be complicated? One time, just once, he’d like to have no impeding factors between him and his goal. Was that too much to ask?
“Creation,” he muttered tensely, moving on to massaging his temples, “can you please let me know if Raimie’s splinter of Order notices anything untoward while he’s recuperating?”
“You know I don’t like spying on others,” the steadily healing splinter responded. “It falls outside the definition of my role.”
“It would only be while he’s incapacitated. I don’t want to intrude on his privacy either.”
Creation’s lips puckered with distaste.
“I’ll oblige your request just this once,” he said. “What are you going to do?”
“Find proof of a scheme first. Once I know it wasn’t only Dath involved, I’m going to root out the conspiracy, tease out each of its members, and burn them all.”
Chapter Seventeen
I nervously waited in the foyer of my potential new master’s home. This would make the seventh such visit this week. I couldn’t handle more than one rejection a day.
Being the bastard son of an exiled lord had its benefits. I’d yet to spend the night without a roof over my head. Unfortunately, it also had its drawbacks. Chief among these was an inability to obtain an apprenticeship with the city’s master healers. It didn’t matter that I’d graduated top of my class and could have chosen any profession at the graduation ceremony itself. No one seemed to want me.
Footsteps drew me from my self-pity. The secretary who’d bid me wait mere moments before came clicking down the entrance hall.
“Master Zeran sends his regrets, Potential Erianger,” she said as she came to a stop. “Unfortunately, important business keeps him from meeting you personally. He asked me to pass on the message that he’s not currently looking for an apprentice, but he appreciates your interest.”
I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from telling her what I thought of her master’s appreciation. Instead, I politely thanked her and left.
“Any luck?” Arivor asked when I stormed through the doors.
“What do you think?” I fumed. “It’s times like this that I wish Casey and his ilk were still around to torment us. I feel the need to punch something.”
I cracked my knuckles wistfully.
“What will you do now?” Arivor asked me anxiously. “Zeran was the last of the master healers you could apprentice to.”
His pinched look of worry helped calm me down. I needed a cool head if I had any chance of coming up with a rational plan.
“It’s not as if I have to learn my craft from a single person,” I mused. “In fact, wouldn’t it be better if I learned from many healers, the best the city has ever produced?”
Mind made up, I took off down the street, and Arivor trotted to keep up.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“The library, my friend! I’ll learn from books,” I explained. “They can’t throw me out anymore because of my rank, and they won’t refuse me entrance now that I’ve graduated. Finally! Access to all of that forbidden knowledge.”
I looked forward to making my way into that paradise of unread books to the dismay of their keepers.
“That’s actually not a terrible idea.”
Arivor’s surprise only hurt a little.
“But how do you plan on housing and feeding yourself in the meantime? Masters usually provide for that. Where do you plan on working once you’ve mastered the healing arts? The guild will deny patronage if you haven’t trained under their masters.”
“I’ll figure out lodging and food as I go,” I said, thinking fast, “but as for where I’ll work, of that, I’m not sure. I suppose I could set up my own healing house, but that would require coin. A lot of it.”
We passed one of the noblemen’s boxing houses that had popped up around the city. Without a war to keep them occupied, the nobles had taken up the new sport with enthusiasm. I shook my head at their innocence. Such places had been a central pillar in the slums for years. Gambling on the fights was one of the crime bosses’ chief sources of income.
“You could accept Reive’s loan,” Arivor started.
“I’m not taking your uncle’s money,” I snapped. “I don’t want to be in his debt. I’ve seen what that looks like.”
“All right, then. I won’t bring it up again. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry, Arivor. I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I don’t hate your uncle. In fact, I admire him in many ways, but I won’t accept his help. I can make my own way. I just need to figure out how.”
Arivor companionably followed me as I headed to the library, content to let me plan in silence. I kept circling that wrestling house in my head. I looked at my clenched fists. Maybe I had a solution after all.
Raimie opened his eyes and took a moment to simply enjoy the glorious process of breathing. A female Eselan bustled into view, and he caught her sleeve as she passed.
“Water?” he rasped.
She shrieked, dropping the cloth she’d been carrying into a bowl perched on the small table beside his cot. Her hands flew over her heart and mouth.
Raimie chuckled hoarsely and sat up.
“What?” he grated. “Never seen a dead man wake before?”
She fled from the tent
“Whoops!”
The exclamation was too much for his throat. A coughing fit took over, and he tried with great difficulty to take in air between bouts.
The Eselan rushed back in with a cup and shoved it into his hands. Nodding gratefully, Raimie managed to calm the fit enough to sip at the soothing water. With its added help, he brought the coughing under control even if a few stragglers continued to burst forth.
“Thank you,” he said, voice a little less ragged with moisture to soothe the vocal chords.
“How do you feel?” the Eselan asked.
That was an especially good question. Raimie took a moment to assess his physical condition.
Someone had taken the time to clean him up. Not a speck of mud dotted his skin. He was also back in the white shirt and pants he’d been wearing upon awakening in Allanovian. The Esela sure did like their monochrome pallet.
Other than an especially dry mouth and throat, he detected no sources of pain. In fact, he felt better than he had in months, full of energy and vigor.
“Nothing hurts,” he answered, “which is surprising. I thought the cuts would ache at the very least.
The Eselan gave him an unsettled look, but she quickly busied herself running her eyes over his body.
“And who do I have the pleasure of being in the presence of?” Raimie asked, annoyed that she was taking so long to introduce herself.
“My name is Chela,” she said, absently. “I’ve been caring for you the last couple of days.”
“Days? How long have I been out?”
Chela fixed annoyed eyes on him.
“Two days. Like I said. Now lie back down so I can finish my examination.”
“You’re not very nice. You know that, right?” Raimie grumbled as he complied with her instructions.
“A healer doesn’t have to be nice. All I have to do is fix your body.”
He endured her hands on him as she inspected him for any injuries hidden below the skin. Once she’d finished, she crossed her arms, perplexed.
“You’re perfectly healthy,” she pronounced. “Even mental functions are mostly intact. I don’t understand. For an undetermined length of time, your body had no soul to keep it functioning. There should be some aftereffects of that.”
Raimie had a few theories about that, but he didn’t think sharing them with Chela would be wise, especially not with that comment about mental functions.
“What can I say? I’m a miracle,” he teased instead.
“That you are, young man,” Chela said gravely. “That you are. If you’ll excuse me, I must go make my reports.”
“Wait, I wasn’t…”
A
gain, she fled.
“…serious,” Raimie finished, a sour expression taking hold.
He played with his empty cup.
“Didn’t even ask if you needed more water. For shame.”
A slow smile spread across Raimie’s face.
“Hello there, Dim. You’ve no idea how nice it is to hear your voice,” he said, eyes fixed on the cup. “Bright not deigning to join us?”
“I’m here, you ungrateful child.”
“So I am alive,” Raimie mused. “The only question is, how?”
He remembered everything between drowning on liquid earth and waking here: the meeting with Alouin, floating outside his body. He knew that Alouin had done something to facilitate his return to life. The god had called it… interfering? What the hell did that mean?
Raimie needed to find another tear.
“If I’m near a tear, will you two go berserk again?” he asked, looking at his splinters
Bright had consolidated, no longer beaming white light from cracks on his body, but Dim still seeped black smoke. He looked supremely unhappy.
Raimie cocked his head. When did he start thinking of them as people instead of anomalous, walking objects?
“I don’t know what we would do,” Bright answered. “Such close contact to our separate wholes, even if only through a break in your reality, reverts us to that which we were within our wholes.”
“Meaning there’s a chance we might try to rip each other’s heads off if you go near one, yes,” Dim confirmed.
He’d have to approach carefully then, assuming he could even find another one, and he should probably do it alone.
Ferin’s jarring arrival interrupted his musings. She was trailed by two other Esela bearing large stacks of books. They dropped the tomes beside his cot, careful not to knock the piles over. Ferin carried a small stack herself.
“You skipped out on my lesson to play with mud, huh?” she started without preamble. “Zetaneb’s told me about your supposedly amazing learning ability. If you’re so desperate to miss my lessons that you’d rather die than come, I suppose I’ll have to switch teaching tactics. Zetaneb’s seems to be working, so…”
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 32