“I trust your son to take care of himself,” he stated with great calm though his eyes glittered dangerously. “He’s a formidable young man, and I believe he’ll do what he must to ensure his survival. You’d do well to place your trust in him.”
Aramar’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know him like I do,” he spat. “What he’s done in the past-”
“I don’t need to know his past,” Kheled firmly interrupted. “In him, I see a generous young man with a thirst for knowledge and the force of conviction necessary to destroy his enemies. That’s all I need. What more could you possibly want from him?”
Aramar wilted beneath the healer’s onslaught. He withdrew into himself.
Kheled turned to the other two.
“Any other opinions on the plan?” he asked.
When no one responded, he returned to the chair and sat, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Each of your arguments alone I can counter, but together they form an undeniable picture. You’re correct. It’s time to take the next step.”
Gistrick and Ashella seemed surprised, and even Aramar stirred at the admission.
“Which is?” Gistrick asked slowly.
Kheled shook himself from his reverie and sat up straight to answer the question.
“We rescue Raimie, and you continue across the sea with him, of course,” he answered, spreading his hands as if it was obvious.
“And how do we do that?” Aramar gruffly asked.
“I’ll handle Raimie. All you three need to do is charter a vessel for our compatriots which shouldn’t be too difficult with Ash’s help. After that, ensure you’re ready to move out when Raimie returns,” Kheled said.
Aramar seemed pleased, content to leave Raimie’s rescue to the man who’d already done the impossible, while Ashella gazed at her childhood companion with concern. Gistrick was the only one mulling over the proposed plan.
“Are you forgetting something?” he asked.
Kheled’s face wrinkled.
“Possibly,” he answered. “I’m not infallible after all. What are you thinking?’
“You mentioned that you want betrayal to be eradicated from Raimie’s followers, and yet you haven’t mentioned plans for the greatest betrayer of them all: Ferin.”
Kheled inwardly cringed. He’d been considering what to do with the Zrelnach commander from day one and could only come up with one good solution to the problem, but he didn’t know if he could follow through with what it would demand.
“You’re right, I never mentioned her,” he conceded. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“I know she’s your friend,” Gistrick said uneasily, “but you know what needs to be done.”
The healer stared unwaveringly at the Zrelnach warrior, daring him to complete the thought. Aramar released an exasperated groan.
“She needs to die, Kheled,” he declared loudly. “I’m sorry, but the woman only does us harm if she remains alive.”
“You leave her alive, and the Zrelnach will always feel an obligation to follow her commands,” Gistrick added. “They’ll never be completely loyal.”
Exactly as he’d reasoned.
“And if we leave her behind?” he whispered.
“The Zrelnach stay too, and you know Raimie will need us at some point,” Gistrick firmly stated.
The inner turmoil showed itself briefly to his companions, but Kheled quickly smoothed the mask of control.
“Will you allow me to speak to her before you do whatever it is you’re planning?” he asked stiffly.
“Of course,” Gistrick assured the healer, “if you’ll agree to help when she doesn’t respond to your appeal. You’re the only one I know who may be a better swords master than her.”
Ashella burst out laughing, causing the three men to study her with concern.
“Sorry,” she said, hiccupping straggling giggles, “it sounded like you were asking Khel to kill someone.”
“In essence, yes, that’s what we requested.”
Ashella doubled over with laughter, and the men waited for her to calm with varying degrees of impatience. When she rose to her full height again, she wiped tears from her eyes.
“Kheled can’t kill this Ferin for you,” she said, her deadly gravity offset by the leftover mirth. “He couldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I’ve seen him fight, young lady, and I assure you that he’s more than capable of defeating Ferin,” Gistrick said, rising to the healer’s defense.
“But that’s not what I said,” Ashella countered. “I said he couldn’t kill Ferin. That’s because he’s physically incapable of killing anyone.”
Aramar and Gistrick turned to the healer, waiting for him to explain. Kheled groaned quietly at Ash’s timing.
“I’ve grown up since I lived in this city, and I know my own limitations. I agree that Ferin must go if I can’t convince her to change loyalties, and to that goal, I pledge to do everything I can,” he quietly answered the men’s unspoken questions.
“But Khel!” Ashella protested.
“Ash!” Kheled barked. “I know what I’m doing.”
The young woman’s eyes filled with tears, and she fled the room.
“Are we done?” he asked the astonished remainder of the room’s occupants.
“I believe so,” Gistrick replied, and he stood up to leave.
Aramar resolutely remained where he was.
“When will you confront Ferin?” he asked.
“I’ll go tonight,” Kheled stiffly said. “I’ve finished my affairs in the city, and you two seem to have completed your assignments. There’s nothing left for us here.”
Satisfied, Aramar climbed into his wheelchair to head after Gistrick.
Kheled caught the older Zrelnach before he descended to the first floor. He drew him to the side, forcing Aramar to wait at the top of the stairs.
“I need a full set of Zrelnach armor,” he murmured to the older man.
“Of course. I’ll have it to you midday.”
Kheled was caught off guard by the quick acquiescence. He’d been prepared to argue for what he needed.
“What? No protest about the dropout wearing the uniform?” he asked bitterly.
“Khel, you’re more Zrelnach than most of the men who claim the title now. You deserve the uniform.”
Gistrick clasped the healer’s arm and assisted Aramar down the steps. Kheled stayed behind, his good mood shattered, incapable of repair even by the one armed warrior’s declaration of respect. At least with everyone scattering as they had, he’d get the weapons practice he’d eagerly anticipated.
* * *
Night had fallen, and Kheled strode unnoticed among the residents of Ferin’s camp. Gistrick had come through with the requested armor, and wearing it, the healer projected an aura of belonging such that none questioned his right to be there.
Ashella had again gotten her guild mates to smuggle her childhood friend outside the city walls after dusk. She’d refused to speak with him the entire afternoon, only doing as asked and nothing more.
Kheled wasn’t terribly concerned. She’d been miffed at him over sillier things in the past and had always come back once she’d cooled off. If he was in the wrong, he’d apologize, of course, but in this case, he had nothing to apologize for. Ashella had overstepped her bounds, and he’d admonished her as gently as he could.
The healer passed one of the pens the humans had been enclosed within for the last several months. They’d been reinforced with bought and scavenged lumber, but no one had thought to use that wood to enlarge the enclosures. The humans packed inside were filthy and in a miserable state altogether. Their ragged clothing hung from their starved bodies, and many huddled in corners, listlessly running fingers through the dirt.
Kheled forced the anger down. He knew that this was a recent turn of events. Ferin had fed the humans in amounts equal to her subordinates and had even allowed short breaks under guard from the pens until supplies from Allan
ovian had cut off unexpectedly. After that, food had automatically gone near exclusively to the soldiers under Ferin’s command, and the resulting discontent had persuaded the commander to keep her captives enclosed so as to prevent revolt. She truly was doing the best she could.
He moved on before anyone noticed his lingering. Ferin had erected a central tent to occupy as her own much as Eledis had done in the past. She used it both as a command center and her quarters.
Kheled approached the young Zrelnach woman keeping watch outside, thanking his lucky stars that he’d never had to treat her as a patient in the past.
“Can I help you?” she asked as he came close, her eyes running up and down his figure appreciatively.
Kheled donned his most charming smile.
“Urgent message received from the Queen,” he grimaced. “I’d hate to disturb the commander but…”
“She left orders for those to come straight to her, day or night,” the young woman obligingly finished for him.
“So may I…?” he asked when she continued to smile vapidly at him.
“Yes, of course,” she said in a rush, raising the flap for him.
He bowed courteously before entering.
The tent reflected Ferin’s nature, neat and tidy with everything in its place. It was occupied by only that which was necessary: a cot, a trunk, and a rickety writing desk. Ferin sprawled across the desk, a quill draped over her open hand.
Kheled silently drew his long dagger from its sheath and held it on guard as he stalked to the Zrelnach commander. When he hovered at a safe distance, he lightly touched her exposed neck with the dagger’s point and kicked her shoe with his foot.
“Wake up,” he quietly said.
She stirred and lifted her head, blinking slowly. Kheled knew she was awake when her eyes snapped open and she shot upright. His dagger followed her ascent. She reached for her own weapons, but he lightly tapped the dagger against her throat, reminding her who was in control. She raised her hands in surrender.
“What are you doing here?” she asked fiercely, fire dancing in her eyes.
“Trying to talk some sense into you,” Kheled answered. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be back in Allanovian by now.”
Ferin chuckled.
“If only. The Queen requested that we stay to guard the rebels until she decides what to do with them. She’s taking her sweet time while my men starve,” she spat.
“Except the prisoners out there,” Kheled pointed to the tent flaps, “aren’t rebels, and you know it. You deserve this mess you’ve caused by lying to the Queen.”
“It’s not as if anything I tell her now would matter though, would it? And I’m sure she’s already fished the truth from Raimie anyway,” Ferin said sadly. “Either way, the humans are dead, and I’m thoroughly screwed.”
“Not necessarily.”
The spark in Ferin’s eye indicated that she’d caught his implication.
“I’m listening,” she said.
“Not here,” Kheled glanced over his shoulder. “Too many ears that might overhear. May I sheathe my dagger without you attacking me?”
“Khel, if you have a solution to this predicament I’ve created, you’re the last person I’d attack,” Ferin said.
“My name is Kheled, not Khel,” he said as he sheathed his dagger.
A sad expression flitted across Ferin’s face, and she quickly made for the exit.
“Where are you going?” Kheled asked, lightly resting fingers on his bandolier of throwing daggers.
“You said we needed privacy. Let’s go get some.”
She disappeared outside, and Kheled was obliged to follow her. They wandered through the orderly camp, soldiers saluting Ferin as she passed, and continued past the camp’s outskirts into the night.
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she asked once they were out of earshot. “That’s why you never took the oath.”
“Hmm?” Kheled mumbled in confusion, scanning the horizon for threats or eavesdroppers.
“Everyone else may dismiss what happened as a trick of the light and superior acrobatic skills, but I know what I saw,” Ferin muttered to the darkness.
She faced him, jabbing her pointer finger into his sternum.
“You’re one of them,” she asserted with conviction. “The legendary primeancers.”
Ice washed over Kheled. This was not the conversation he’d prepared for.
“I-” he started numbly.
Ferin’s finger jabbed him again.
“Don’t try to deny it. I saw my proof. You were glowing and running so fast that you looked like a blur. I know exactly what you’re capable of, and that’s not it. So, please tell me the truth. Are you one of them?”
Ferin’s body practically screamed longing and need. She’d probably questioned her sanity since that fateful night of her betrayal. It seemed wrong to make her believe she’d lost her grip even if she’d betrayed him.
What would be the harm in telling her? It would be a relief to fully unburden on someone finally, and depending on her decision regarding Raimie, she’d either be dead or too intensely loyal to share any secrets.
He glanced at Creation who waited behind Ferin and to the side. The splinter resolutely shook his head.
“Yes,” he told her.
Her hands jolted to her mouth to cover her gasp, and her saucer sized eyed bored into his.
“I can’t believe this is happening! I don’t know whether I should be in awe or terrified!” she exclaimed. “Can you do everything from the stories? What about invisibility? Is that possible? Wait, are you light or dark aligned?”
Kheled rolled his eyes and pulled Ele’s energy to his left hand which he lifted. It lit the space between them.
“Don’t you think you’ve more important things to worry about right now? Like troops stuck by queen’s order in a foreign land without the necessary supplies?”
Ferin hummed with impatience.
“Right,” she said. “I assume you have a plan, yes?”
He inclined his head.
“Then I’m with you.”
An arrow sprouted from her eye, and she dropped. Kheled fell to his knees, rolling up his sleeves.
“No, no, NO!” he growled as he pulled her onto her back.
He felt for a pulse and finding none, prepared for chest compressions, ignoring the projectile jutting from her skull.
When Gistrick and Aramar found him ten minutes later, he stared blankly at Ferin’s face in his lap. He’d removed the arrow from her eye and closed it to hide the glaring wound.
“I’m sorry,” Aramar said.
The Eselan muttered something unintelligible back.
“What was that?” Gistrick asked.
“I said WHY?” Kheled growled, jerking his head up.
His furious gray eyes bored into their souls, making them step back.
“We all agreed she needed to die, Kheled,” Gistrick answered with confusion.
“We also agreed that I’d get to speak with her first,” the healer said, his voice a barely controlled scream. “She was going to swear fealty to Raimie.”
“And how long would her newfound loyalty have lasted?” Aramar asked gently. “Once a betrayer, always a betrayer. She needed to go.”
Kheled shifted Ferin from his lap and rose. Gistrick and Aramar both readied to draw their weapons on seeing the threat in his face.
“The list,” he said, extending a hand to Gistrick.
“What?” the Zrelnach warrior dumbly asked.
“The list of those who murdered Zetaneb.”
Kheled’s hand thrust forward insistently. Gistrick reached into his cuirass shakily and withdrew a sheet of paper with five names written on it. He crossed to the healer and placed it in the waiting palm before backing away quickly.
Kheled’s fingers curled around the list, and he brought it up for inspection. He crumpled the paper, dropped it, and advanced on camp.
Aramar started to go af
ter him, but Gistrick held him back, shaking his head slightly. They turned to take care of the body of the woman they’d murdered.
* * *
In the morning, five horribly wounded Zrelnach were discovered outside the command tent. Every one of their nails had been removed, and the skin had been flayed from multiple portions of their bodies. Their mouths had been stuffed with ripped out pages to contain their screams.
When the Zrelnach on guard duty that morning rushed Ferin’s tent, they found her body resting in peaceful slumber on her cot. Her clasped hands held a single flower.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I perched atop the walls of the city I’d once been proud to call home, taking in the seething sea of humanity coating the plains outside for miles. I’d never seen such a large collection of humans before, not even during the war. Somehow, I doubted that if they chose to attack, our defenses would hold for very long.
Setting my jaw, I stormed away from the wall and advanced on the city’s center. People parted around me as I passed, but instead of the normal loathing that made them reluctant to come near me, I saw fear in their eyes.
The guards let me into the Council chambers without question, hauling the massive doors open when they spied me at the end of the street. When I entered, three of the four Councilors filled the room with the sound of their screaming. I shook my head at their squabbling. They should be planning for the city’s defense, not arguing like children.
“Enough!” I bellowed when my arrival went unremarked.
The Councilors finally noticed the intrusion on the sanctity of their chambers. Whatever the average citizens on the streets had seen to cow them had no such effect in here.
“What do you think you’re doing?” one sputtered indignantly. “We could have you executed for this!”
“Could you really?” I asked indulgently.
“You may be immune from our punishment, Erianger, but your wife and child are not,” Reive said, calmly reminding me of the leverage he held over me. “You’d better have an excellent reason for disturbing us.”
“I do,” I said, nodding my head. “You’re looking for a peaceful solution to the problem at your gates, yes? Send me out there. I can discover what Arivor wants.”
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 46