Chapter Twenty-Five
I know what I’m asking of you. I do not ask it lightly.
Kheled raised his fist to knock on Raimie’s door and hesitated. While normally he could appreciate the irony of such a situation, he was unhappy to have gotten into a fight with his friend so soon after they’d resolved their fake one. It didn’t help that he was the one at fault.
The ship began its ascent up the next swell, and Kheled braced against the doorway to keep from tumbling down the hallway. He brought his fist down on the door and waited, wondering if Raimie had heard the knock over the howl of the storm.
The door swung open, revealing his friend’s green tinged face. He didn’t look that awful considering the intensity of the gale.
“I’m sorry!” Kheled shouted above the roar.
Raimie shook his head.
“This couldn’t wait until we’d passed through the storm?” he asked in a yell.
“It could have,” Kheled acknowledged, “but there’s something I want to show you. I figured the apology should come first.”
Raimie laughed, but the healer couldn’t hear it over the din.
“All right,” he shouted. “What’s so great you have to show it off during this awfulness?”
Kheled gestured for Raimie to follow and headed for one of the ladders leading to the main deck. The trek down the hallway was a struggle as they constantly fluctuated between climbing and descending tiny hills. The wood bars lining the walls saved Kheled from stumbling more than once. Navigating a ship without them during a storm could be so much more difficult.
He paused at the top of the ladder before shoving the hatch aside.
“Stay close and make sure you’re always holding something attached to the ship,” he shouted at Raimie.
He waited for the young man’s nod before entering the gale.
Nature’s fury railed at the small galleon attempting to pass below her eye. All around the man-made structure of wood, waves rose and fell to terrifying heights and depths. Rain pounded the deck to a discordant beat, and lightning lit up the sky with brief intensity, temporarily blinding those who dared to brave the elements.
Kheled grabbed a rope nearby before he released his grip on the ladder. He waited for Raimie to join him outside, closed the hatch, and carefully made his way starboard, changing handholds when it became necessary.
When he approached the side of the ship, he held its wood in a death grip. This close to the full force of the storm, the normally solid railing seemed like a pile of twigs.
To the fore of the galleon, salvation awaited. Not too far into the distance, the swells calmed, and the only rain in sight was a light drizzle.
This was how one navigated around the Accession Tear. Instead of braving the unpredictability of offshoot monsoons, experienced sailors weathered the somewhat calm outskirts of the ever present hurricanes that swept around the Tear. They’d pass through a cycle of heavy storms followed by tiny breaks of relatively peaceful weather that allowed for course correction and regroup before facing the storms once again.
Within the next day, the fleet would reach that break in the storm wall, but by that point, the phenomenon Kheled wanted Raimie to see would have passed from sight.
He hunched down to his friend’s height and pointed. Before them, the fury of the gale continued unabated as far as the eye could see. An undeterminable distance away, the sky lit up with perpetual lightning, the strikes descending to smite the ocean below almost as often as they played in the clouds above. Through that light show, Kheled could barely make out the rise of the island above the tops of the waves, and hovering above that was the Tear.
Stretching halfway to the clouds, the black smudge yawed open, eager to snap up anything unsuspecting enough to get caught in its grasp. The white light spilling from its edges was a beacon raised to warn sailors away.
Once again, Kheled was in awe at the sight. The size and raw power of the Tear took his breath away. As if nature wished to prove his point for him, a waterspout shot up from the ocean, and the Accession Tear made the whirling mass of water and wind appear insignificant.
He turned to Raimie, and his friend met his eyes, a matching grin on his face, before the Tear stole the human’s gaze away. Beside him, three other Kheleds clung to the railing, leaning over it as far as they could without plunging into the ocean. The splinters paid no mind to the enemy beside them. They’d eyes only for the opening to the raw source of their power. With glazed expressions and stupefied smiles, they looked almost drunk.
Kheled joined them in their appreciation just as a gust lurched the galleon to the side, ripping the view away. He touched Raimie’s shoulder and pointed to the hatch, indicating his friend should take the lead. It was time to return to safety.
They’d almost reached the hatch when the wave hit. Coming down off of the previous swell at an awkward angle, a wall of water crashed over the deck, slamming into Kheled and his friend. Raimie lost his grip on the rope he’d been holding as the water sloughed away, and immediately the galleon began its ascent up the next wave.
Raimie started sliding, frantically clawing for a handhold, and Kheled caught him as he passed, his friend’s hand nearly slipping through his fingers. The deck tilted so far back as to lift the two into the air, making Kheled’s shoulders scream at the joints, before the ship reached the crest, slamming them back to the deck. The impact knocked the breath out of the healer, but the adrenaline rush gave him the strength to slide to the hatch, fling it open, and usher Raimie inside.
At the base of the ladder, the two leaned against opposite walls. Kheled watched Raimie’s shoulders shake with concern. Had such a small brush with death disturbed him so much? Then his friend lifted a beaming face, and he slumped with relief.
Raimie doubled over with laughter at the sight of Kheled’s anxiety, and the healer eventually joined him in howling along with the storm.
“Thank you,” Raimie shouted, clasping the healer’s arm when the laughter subsided. “Let’s never do that again.”
“I can agree to that,” Kheled said. “I’ll see you at dinner?”
With the storm noise making it impossible to hear anything softer than a shout, doing anything more together seemed frivolous.
“See you then.”
And the two went their separate ways, Raimie to his private cabin and Kheled to his assigned bunk.
* * *
When they finally left the Accession Tear’s after-effects behind, Kheled was quite ready to join the entirety of the crew in milling about the main deck. He’d forgotten how awful the cabin fever got in that span trapped below, waiting for the storms to capsize your ship.
For two glorious weeks, they enjoyed smooth sailing. With the wind at their back, the fleet gobbled up the miles of water that lay between it and its destination.
One of the things Kheled was most grateful for in this brief moment of calm was the resumption of his evening training sessions with Raimie. He’d missed teaching the young man.
Somehow, his friend had become more skilled in his time under Queen Kaedesa’s care both with his martial skills and his magical ones, forcing Kheled to accelerate his time table.
Raimie had learned how to draw both Ele and Daevetch at any moment of time which was exactly what the healer had been waiting for. The skill had to be self-taught else it wasn’t natural. Unless drawing energy was just as second nature as breathing, a fight with another primeancer could be deadly. After all, in such fights, whoever drew enough energy first, lived.
Now that Raimie had accomplished that feat, Kheled helped his friend with a slew of basic Ele techniques. To start, he showed his student what he’d done wrong in his encounter with Dath. If a primeancer wasn’t precise with the amount of energy he or she was pushing, their control of movement was basically impossible. To demonstrate, he had Raimie climb the galleon’s riggings at faster and faster paces so that the human could learn how much he needed to push in different situations.
At the end of one evening’s particularly long training session, Eledis pulled Kheled to the side.
“I’m concerned with how hard you’re pushing him, Healer,” Eledis murmured as he watched his grandson wipe sweat away. “Quite honestly, he’s learned enough. Most of the troops are already a bit in awe of his skill set. He doesn’t need to be a master swordsman. I only need him capable of defending himself.”
Kheled placidly took in the old man’s words, lazily blinking until he’d finished.
“Understood, sir,” he said, and he turned away.
“Wait!” Eledis exclaimed. “Does that mean you’ll ease up?”
“Hardly,” Kheled called over his shoulder. “Anyone who wants to survive in Auden needs to be a better swordsman than he.
“You’re right, sir. Raimie has made impressive progress in the short time I’ve been teaching him. He’s quite capable of defending himself in a soft place such as Ada’ir, but Auden’s different. Young warriors of his caliber are eaten for breakfast there.”
“And what do you know of Auden?” Eledis asked with amusement.
Kheled cocked his head thoughtfully.
“That’s actually a good question, sir. Eleven years there taught me a lot, but I was a child when I fled. I suppose things might have changed in the years since, but with Doldimar in charge, I doubt much has.”
“You’re saying you’re from Auden?” Eledis asked, growing still.
His demeanor changed from a slightly grouchy grandfather to something else entirely. Kheled’s instincts screamed danger.
“I was born within Auden’s borders, yes,” he said with a slight nod.
“And why haven’t you sworn your oath of loyalty to your rightful king?” Eledis asked.
Kheled took in the old man’s hand on his borrowed sword, the grim determination on his face, and narrowed his eyes. He was missing something here.
“Khel doesn’t have to swear anything,” Raimie said, saving the healer from responding. “He’s my friend, and he’s already saved my life at least once. I believe that’s more than enough to prove his loyalty.”
“It doesn’t guarantee his continued faithfulness,” Eledis said, staring Kheled down.
“Neither does a few words wrapped into an oath,” Raimie shrugged. “I trust him. That should be good enough for you.”
Eledis reluctantly broke his stare, and the grandfather mask returned.
“Of course it is!” he exclaimed, all smiles. “I’m only looking out for you.”
“I appreciate that,” Raimie intoned. “Maybe you should look elsewhere.”
He’d crossed his arms, and with the stern expression carved into his face, Kheled could almost see the crown resting on his head.
“Of course, grandson! Good night!”
Eledis stiffly left them alone.
“Thank you,” Kheled murmured to his friend.
“No problem.”
Raimie gulped some water from the ladle resting in a water barrel.
“Night!” he said, raising a hand as he headed for the ladder.
“Raimie!” Kheled called. “You know I’d swear if you asked?”
His friend gave him a strange look.
“I don’t doubt it, but I don’t need or want you to swear anything to me.”
Kheled let the warm feeling suffuse his being rather than casting it aside as was the norm.
“Good night,” he gruffly said.
Raimie descended the ladder.
Two days later, the winds died.
* * *
“How is it that the Queen’s navy doesn’t have even the simplest of accommodations for rowing?” Eledis nearly screamed at the commander they’d brought with them from Daira.
“ ‘desa doesn’t like employing slaves to man the oars, and how many soldiers have you encountered that are willing to do it?” Marcuset responded defensively. “Besides, we’ve other means of discouraging combat.”
“And do these other means provide propulsion across still waters without wind to fill the sails?” Eledis asked venomously.
Marcuset hung his head.
“I thought not,” Eledis hissed. “I suppose I’ll have to beseech Alouin for wind in that case because otherwise, we’re STUCK HERE!”
He stalked away as Raimie joined them.
“What was that about?” he asked, watching his grandfather angrily drop below deck.
“Don’t you worry, Your Majesty. Eledis has always had a temper, and being forced into doing things he hates, like sailing, tends to exacerbate it,” Marcuset answered reassuringly. “He’s overreacting about being becalmed because he wants to get off this boat.”
Raimie lifted an eyebrow.
“Would you like me to talk to him?” he asked. “I might convince him to calm down and possibly apologize since I’m his grandson. Also, I thought we discussed the ‘Your Majesty’ thing.”
“That’s kind of you, but please don’t concern yourself with such a small matter, Your Majesty. I’m his friend. I’ve been yelled at more times than I can count, and what he did just now was mild,” Marcuset replied, flushing slightly.
He completely ignored the young man’s protest.
Raimie faced fore, arms clasped behind his back and looking out on the glassy waters.
“Do we have cause for concern?” he asked.
“Right now, no, but that could change,” the commander replied. “I’ve never seen the wind die for more than two or three days.”
“Thank you,” Raimie said dismissively, and the older man bowed and walked away.
Kheled chuckled at the sight of the more accomplished commander deferring to his young friend. Raimie jumped, whirling to face the sound.
“Oh, Khel!” he exclaimed with surprise. “I didn’t see you there.”
“You need to work on your awareness then,” Kheled replied.
He unfolded from where he’d been napping and joined his friend. They both enjoyed a moment of silence, looking out on the waters whose stillness was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
“What do you think of this?” Raimie asked, waving a hand at the ocean.
“The commander’s right,” Kheled answered. “Under normal circumstances, the wind would pick up in a day or two, but he’s not taking into account the Accession Tear. We’re close enough that this could be an effect of the freakish weather it produces.”
“So, you think we might have a problem. Wait, what is the Accession Tear?” Raimie asked a little too eagerly. “No, hang on. What are tears in general?”
The question threw Kheled for a loop. Raimie would do amazing things like earn the trust and loyalty of a military man like Marcuset, and then turn around and ask questions about things the smallest child could answer.
“Haven’t you heard the story of Alouin?” Kheled asked curiously.
It seemed the sort of thing the young man might never have heard of.
“Everyone knows about Alouin!” Raimie scoffed. “He formed our world and brought us to it in ages forever past. My dad worships him.”
Well, that was a huge simplification, but Kheled wasn’t going to protest it.
“And do you?” he asked.
Raimie paused, thoughtfully considering.
“I thought I did,” he slowly replied, “but now I’m not so sure. What does he have to do with the tears?”
“The story goes that when Alouin brought the Esela to this new world by breaking though from the old, he left his charges on the island on which the Accession Tear sits,” Kheled
answered, “and the theory is that tears are exactly that, breaks in our reality.”
Raimie hopped up and down on his toes with excitement.
“I have got to find another one!” he muttered quietly.
“Why?” Kheled asked, mystified by his friend’s strange behavior.
Raimie fully settled his feet on the ground.
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, looking aft. “Eledis wanted me to read some dusty old politics manuscript today. I should get to it now if I don’t want to fall asleep while perusing it.”
He patted Kheled’s shoulder.
“Thank you, my friend,” he said, and then he was gone.
* * *
The days stretched longer with each one that passed until even Marcuset admitted there could be a problem. Midafternoon on the sixth day with no wind, every person in a leadership position gathered on the quarterdeck to discuss their options. Kheled hadn’t been invited, but he hovered anyway, interested in the proceedings.
“This can’t continue any longer,” Aramar said.
He’d been brought above deck by a crew member specifically for the meeting.
“I’ve gotten a report on our supplies, and while we’re not in any danger of exhausting the food, we’re down to our last dozen barrels of water. If the winds don’t start blowing soon, we won’t have enough for the troops quartered on this ship alone.”
“I’ve had similar reports from the rest of the fleet,” Marcuset added.
“What exactly are we supposed to do? Magically produce wind?” Raimie asked dubiously. “The Esela can’t do that, can they?”
“Not as far as I’m aware,” Eledis replied.
They couldn’t. Such magic wasn’t even part of that which was lost to them. Esela could possibly summon oars from merchant galley ships if the fleet was closer to the coast, but with how far out they were, the effort might kill the one wishing to attempt it.
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 49