“Found him,” Creation said from behind, making him jump.
“Alive?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” Creation answered with some amusement.
“Where?”
“Same place as ever.”
Which meant he wasn’t in camp at all.
“Thank you,” Kheled said, dismissing the splinter.
When Creation complied, a small kernel of worry loosened. The splinter may be changing for the better, growing a sense of humor and allowing Kheled a longer leash, but that didn’t mean he wanted the splinter hovering nearby to annoy him if he strayed.
Focus on the task, healer.
Kheled would have to wade through a tightly controlled section of camp in order to get to Aramar. Without the struggle of human domination to occupy them, the Zrelnach stalking those areas might spare the attention required to dismantle Kheled’s mask. Drawing his cloak tighter around his body, he brushed his blades’ hilts, comforted that if he was discovered he at least had the pretense of defense.
As he strode past groups of Zrelnach keeping humans pinned in, a large fire on the edge of camp drew Kheled’s eye. So far, the Zrelnach had been intent on minimizing destruction to camp, keeping the changing of the guard as neat and orderly as possible. Maybe the humans had started the fire in an attempt to distract their soon to be captors.
It wasn’t too far off of his chosen trajectory, so Kheled diverted toward it. As he drew closer, he recognized the source of the blaze as Zetaneb’s cart, piled high with his collection of books.
His pace quickened. Soon, the smoke from the burning pages stung his eyes, and heat scorched the side of his body that faced the flames.
He circled the cart, each turn washing him in waves of cool relief followed by dread as he neared the next corner. He made a final turn and immediately gagged, pressing a fist to his mouth to keep from retching.
Zetaneb’s body had been hacked into pieces, parts flung haphazardly beside the cart. The only remaining identifiable feature was his head which had been beaten and smashed to a pulp. One of his books was shoved into his mouth, splitting the corners into a giant, red smile.
The general disdain the Esela held toward Raimie’s human tutor was widely known and accepted, but this sheer brutality spoke to a deeper, abiding hatred. The man’s life choices may have unsettled many who met him, but they shouldn’t have prompted this level of cruelty. Zetaneb didn’t deserve to be murdered like this. No one did.
Kheled stared over his hand, horrified, at the bruised and swollen face. It was happening again. True to past experience, the pain, suffering, and death were only just beginning. Chilling panic surfaced, freezing him in place. No, no, no, no, no….
It was going to be different. He’d make it different.
He tore his eyes from Zetaneb’s corpse and sprinted falteringly away from camp. Sev’s walls loomed closer, and Kheled boxed the images from around that burning cart away with the others, frantically searching for the sense of calm that had deserted him. When the chaos fell far behind and the quiet of the deserted hills that flanked Sev replaced the disarray, he managed to still his racing heart and control the anger burning to burst forth.
The small tent Aramar had commandeered for his own, separate camp drew closer. Makeshift dummies stood guard over a fire with dinner roasting, untended, over it. Several lumps peppered the ground illuminated by the flames, but from this distance, it was impossible to tell if they were innocent bedrolls for Zrelnach friends who’d come to visit or dead bodies.
They turned out to be corpses but not the ones Kheled had expected. Black, leather armor had provided no defense against the single arrow that had brought each warrior low. Piercing eyes, necks, and the soft spots between the ribs that led to the heart, each shot spoke volumes to the skill of the archer.
Kheled approached cautiously, debating whether or not to draw his saber. In the end, he decided it was better to prepare for a fight in case any enemies still breathed, and he pulled his blade free of its scabbard, creeping into the firelight.
The camp was abandoned. The tent’s flap whipped about in the wind, and the smell of burning food drifted from the fire.
Whatever had happened here must have forced Aramar to flee. Kheled’s search was not yet over.
Something hot pierced his arm, and he spun from the impact, instinct driving him to draw his dagger. He crouched low to the ground, fully aware of how exposed he was, but without knowing which direction the attack had come from, he was helpless to defend against another.
“The first shot was a warning, a courtesy,” a voice rang out from the darkness. “I don’t enjoy killing my allies, so I’d be grateful if you could return to Ferin or whoever else began this misunderstanding and relay my disparagement of the test of my skill.”
Yes, that was indeed an arrow in his bicep.
“You shot me, Aramar?” Kheled shouted. “I know visibility is terrible out here, but I thought it was pretty obvious I’m not Zrelnach. Or are you taking an ‘all Esela are the same’ position today?”
The silence stretched longer than he’d like. He was about to make a break for the tent, the only source of cover in these deserted hills, when the voice rang out again.
“Is that you, Kheled?”
The healer stood slowly, sheathing his saber, and spun in a circle with arms spread wide. Now Aramar could decide what to do with him.
It wasn’t a long wait. Before Kheled had had a chance to let the tension bleed away to be replaced with boredom, a one-armed Eselan in black leathers strolled into view.
“Gistrick?” the healer asked uncertainly, ready to draw again at the slightest hint of aggression.
The Zrelnach dipped his head and jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
“Aramar’s this way.”
He turned on his heels, but when Kheled didn’t immediately follow, he paused.
“If you’re here to help, you should follow me.”
Kheled hesitantly trailed Gistrick as the Zrelnach led the way into the boulder-strewn hills that bordered the valley leading into Sev.
“Why are you here?” he asked sharply. “I thought loyalty to Allanovian was driven into all Zrelnach until it was a greater priority than even loyalty to family or friends.”
“I love Aramar like a brother, Healer, but you’re right. Allanovian always comes first,” Gistrick grunted, surprising Kheled.
He’d been sure the Zrelnach would refuse to answer.
“The problem is that Allanovian is dying, in large part because of your little friend. We were already limping along as it was with the meager support of exotic items the tear provided for trade. With our supply line cut, we’ll lose trading partners for grain and other crops that we can’t grow on our own, all thanks to Raimie. Our only hope is to find a new place to call home which we won’t encounter on these human infested shores. That means allying with the Audish royal family.”
“I think Allanovian’s chance to ride their coattails to Auden has passed with the Council’s deliberate attempt to murder them, don’t you?” Kheled panted, the steep incline of the hill taking its toll.
He bumped into Gistrick’s back as the man stopped short.
“Allanovian shouldn’t be blamed for the shortsightedness of the imbeciles chosen to lead us. It’s not like many of us had a say in the current slew of Councilors. Half of them were chosen decades ago by Zrelnach who’ve long since passed in service to the city,” he snarled. “I guarantee you that most of the Esela throwing camp into disarray at this very moment wouldn’t agree with the decision to deal unfairly with Eledis and Raimie. They simply follow orders handed down by the one in authority. If we could somehow negate her influence, we might work toward fixing the situation before it gets even more out of control.”
He faced Kheled stormily.
“But I can’t do what needs to be done. I swore an oath to Ferin, and unlike some,” he jabbed a finger into the healer’s chest, “I don’t break my word. So, I’m doing wh
at I can, protecting the one member of the family I can get to while Ferin’s distracted with her coup.”
Kheled brushed Gistrick’s finger away.
“A simple ‘I’m protecting Allanovian’s interests’ would’ve sufficed, thank you,” he said testily. “Shall we?”
Gistrick drew breath to retort, but he ended up shaking his head and moving on in silence.
When they reached their destination, Kheled almost missed Raimie’s father. A tree blocked Aramar from view. The backrest of the wheelchair flopped along the ground as Raimie’s father maneuvered it over the grass, and his bow rested on his knees with an arrow already nocked.
Reminded of the one in his arm, Kheled took a deep breath and ripped it out, holding back the scream that followed. He inspected the arrowhead and shaft and finding nothing damaged, tossed it back to Aramar, immediately returning his hand to cover the wound.
The older man caught it midair and made a face.
“I apologize profusely, Kheled. This attack by supposed allies has made me a bit jumpy toward armed Esela this evening.”
The healer squinted at Aramar’s tiny camp at the base of the hill. From this far away and in the dim illumination of the firelight, he wasn’t surprised Raimie’s father had mistaken him for Zrelnach.
“I don’t blame you. How you could see well enough to only hit my arm is a mystery to me.”
“Do you need stitches?” Aramar asked with a concerned look.
“No,” Kheled flung his hand out violently, “thank you. I can see to the wound myself.”
“Whatever you say,” Aramar said, giving him a funny look.
“If you two are quite finished, can we please make a plan?” Gistrick drawled from where he leaned against the tree.
That was going to be harder than the other two thought. After all, they didn’t have the information Kheled did. If the Queen had moved in…
“Our first priority should be reuniting with Eledis and my son,” Aramar started as if reading the healer’s thoughts. “Eledis may have a plan for this betrayal, and if Ramie’s not with us, the entire point of this journey is moot.”
“We won’t get near them until morning when the gates open. We need a plan for the time in between then and now,” Kheled replied.
“Mine’s to go back to camp and blend in with my brothers and sisters. If there’s even a tiny chance that I can get my hands on information useful to us, such as Ferin’s future plans, then I need to be there,” Gistrick cut in. “Plus, I might be able to convince some friends to ignore the Council’s mandate.”
“That’s not a horrible idea. Kheled and I can find a place to pass the time until sunrise. Between the two of us, we should be able to fend off any Zrelnach that finds us,” Aramar agreed.
“And when morning comes?” Gistrick asked. “Will the two of you head into the city immediately like Ferin probably expects, or did you have another idea? It’d be a shame to last through the night only to be captured and killed in the morning.”
Kheled took a small step forward.
“Send me into Sev,” he said with a grimace. “I’ve history here. Some of my contacts may be willing to help find Raimie.”
The two others stared at him wordlessly.
“What?! Allanovian wasn’t my first home!” Kheled explained with an eye roll. “After fleeing Auden, I spent my first five years on these shores in that hellhole of a city. I made friends.”
“You’re from Auden?” Aramar asked with disbelief. “How have I never heard this? Do you know what we’ll find there? Can we expect any help from the locals?”
Gistrick laid a hand on Aramar’s shoulder.
“Not important right now, my friend. Let’s focus on finding your family and taking back control of your men. Auden won’t matter if we can’t do that.”
Aramar looked like he was about to burst with questions, but he contained his curiosity.
“How do you plan on getting in?” he asked instead.
“I have my ways,” Kheled answered vaguely.
Aramar and Gistrick both frowned at him. He smiled at the twin looks of displeasure on their faces.
Aramar’s brow creased after a moment of silent consideration.
“If Kheled’s going into Sev, and Gistrick is playing spy with Ferin, how should I help?”
Gistrick and Kheled exchanged a glance, neither wanting to say what they were thinking.
“Stay alive?” Kheled suggested at the same time that Gistrick mumbled, “Archery practice.”
Aramar slumped.
“Am I really that useless?” he whispered.
“No!” Kheled exclaimed. “Did you not notice how well you defended yourself this evening? I came running with the intention of keeping you safe, and you did that job for me. But your strengths won’t be required for this next part, and you need to stay safe so Raimie has a father to come back to.”
Aramar’s eyes narrowed.
“What do you mean come back to?”
Kheled shifted nervously.
“About that, I have some information regarding Ferin’s plan to share with you…”
* * *
Aramar hadn’t been pleased to learn that Queen Kaedesa had become entangled in their affairs. He’d mumbled several obscenities Kheled had never heard before at the idea that she might’ve captured Raimie. He’d only calmed after Kheled had reiterated for the fifth time that capture was only a possibility and that they would find out what had happened to his son in the morning.
Which was why the healer milled amongst the crowd of people gathered at Sev’s gates at the crack of dawn despite his lack of sleep. He yawned loudly and stretched. With his physical alteration, he wasn’t concerned about being recognized.
Having taken on Aramar’s mousy hair and Raimie’s blue eyes, Kheled could pass for human, but this type of shape change was the most time consuming to accomplish, the most difficult to maintain, and the most draining when reversed. He’d be useless for a few hours after he’d taken back his own gray eyes and auburn and green-tinged hair.
He’d avoided telling Aramar his plan for getting into the city, despite its simplicity, because he wasn’t sure how the human would react to him wearing his and his son’s features. Some humans became very, very cranky when an Eselan took on their guise.
Something on top of the walls thunked, and Sev’s gates all cracked open as one. All around Kheled, merchants and visitors to the city stirred and shuffled through the widening gap. He funneled with them past the gate and into the city he’d hoped to never see again.
Wandering the streets, he tried to get his bearings as the sun rose above the city wall. His memories of this place weren’t firmly locked away, however, so before the sun had climbed midway up the sky, he’d found the side street he’d been looking for.
It was a relatively less well-traveled thoroughfare off of a busy marketplace, more of a wide alley than a street. The tall buildings on either side cast the cobblestone below into shadow, lit only by the occasional house flame.
His heart lurched at the sight of the old hunting grounds. Shoving the distracting emotion to the side, he focused on his target.
Kheled followed the woman away from the market at an acceptable distance to both keep her in sight and pretend that he was minding his own business. She was young, pretty, and alone, all in all, the perfect mark. It was fortunate for her that he was in town that day. Any other day, she most likely wouldn’t have made it to the next cross street unharmed.
Sure enough, a shadow peeled off of the darkness collecting in a gap between two homes. Kheled quickened his pace upon observing the gait and demeanor of the shadowed man. The thief approached the woman and raised his club with every intention of bringing it down on her head, but Kheled caught his wrist, firmly halting the swing.
“Don’t,” he whispered in the thief’s ear.
He bodily dragged the man into one of the few gaps between the buildings to be graced by the sun’s rays and threw him to the ground. T
he thief flipped to his back, his face already pulled into a plea.
“Please, good sir, don’t kill me,” he begged, his voice quavering as he scanned Kheled’s assortment of blades.
“Oh, stop sniveling, Hux,” the healer snapped. “I need to speak with Ash. Where is she?”
The helpless act dropped faster than an arrow met its target to be replaced with suspicion.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“You don’t remember me, Hux? Have eleven years dulled your memories of your favorite plaything that much?”
Hux’s eyes widened, and a hungry, anticipatory smile spread across his face.
“Gray eyes?” he asked. “Did you miss starving to death that much?”
Kheled coldly glared at the thief. When he didn’t get a response, Hux stood and brushed his clothes off.
“You shouldn’t have come back, gray eyes,” he said, raising his club threateningly. “You still owe me money…”
Kheled slammed Hux into the wood wall of the house beside them, his saber’s point grazing the thief’s Adam’s apple. A thin line of red leaked a few droplets of blood down his throat.
“Where’s Ash, you bastard?” he growled. “Which safe house?”
“You think you can scare me?” Hux asked, leveling fearless eyes at the Eselan. “You won’t kill me. You didn’t have it in you then, and you don’t now.”
“Maybe not.”
Kheled trailed his saber lightly down to the thief’s groin. He slapped it with the flat of his blade.
“But there are worse things than death,” he continued over the thief’s pained groan. “You taught me that.”
Hux must have seen something in Kheled’s eyes because he dropped the club and plastered his hands against the wall.
“Butcher’s district, portside,” he gasped.
Kheled smashed a throwing dagger through one of the thief’s hands, pinning it to the wall. Hux howled, clawing at the dagger with his free hand, and Kheled walked away.
He wasn’t worried about whether Hux had lied to him. The thief wasn’t smart enough for that, and the bastard certainly didn’t deserve his thanks.
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 42