“Come inside, Your Majesty,” Marcuset said. “Are you hungry? We can get food.”
Raimie smirked at the shocked guard and followed the commander. The tent’s interior was a ramshackle collection of crates, barrels, and boxes. A single cot was pushed into a corner, but other than that, the place looked less like living quarters and more like storage.
“Apologies for the mess. We’re in the midst of unloading the ships.”
“I don’t mind,” Raimie said. “And I’d love to eat, but I’m afraid there’s somewhere I need to be, so let’s make this quick. Was anyone hurt?”
“Miraculously, no. The worst anyone took is a blow to their pride,” Marcuset reported succinctly. “Second Chance came to our rescue which, for your ears only Your Majesty, has bridged the gap between my men and the Zrelnach significantly. We had quite a loss of arms and provisions, but no loss of life.”
“A good result overall then,” Raimie said. “I might have an idea for replenishing those lost supplies, but it will involve me leaving for the evening. I don’t suppose anyone grabbed my gear before fleeing the sinking ship?”
Aramar wordlessly rolled out from between the boxes. He offered Raimie his bow and quiver, and when his son bent to accept, Aramar slapped him.
“Don’t you ever lock me in a room like that again,” he growled, and then he hugged his son.
Raimie rubbed his cheek absently when his father released him.
“I couldn’t keep my promise,” he told Aramar. “I tried, but I couldn’t even touch Teron.”
“I assume he’s still alive?” his father asked, continuing on after Raimie’s nod. “Then we’ll try once more when he shows up again, and this time, you won’t keep me from helping. Now, you said you’re in a hurry, yes? The rest of your gear is on the cot.”
“Where exactly are you rushing off to?” Marcuset asked while Raimie changed into his second set of leather armor and replenished his lost assortment of knives and daggers.
“I met a friend who helped me find my way back here,” Raimie answered. “She’ll introduce me to her people, and I’m hoping to form an alliance with them.”
“You’ve met Audish citizens?” Aramar asked. “Are they friendly? Do we even speak the same language anymo-?”
“Can someone please explain why this Eselan girl just attempted to kill me?” Eledis boomed.
Raimie twirled his staff into its resting place on his back and quickly ducked out from behind the boxes. At the tent flaps, Eledis held Ren up by the hair, and she hissed and scratched at his hand.
“She’s with me!” Raimie yelled. “Let her go!”
Eledis tossed her to him and wiped his hand distastefully on his clothing. Raimie caught Ren before she stumbled into a crate. He pulled her behind him.
“So good to see you alive, grandson,” Eledis muttered darkly. “Who’s your companion, and why did she try to kill me?”
“It’s all your fault!” Ren sobbed behind Raimie. “If you’d done something, Doldimar would never have gained power!”
Eledis’ eyebrows soared.
“She’s Audish?” he asked with surprise.
“She led me to camp through a forest I’d never be able to successfully traverse without years spent wandering it, so yes, I’m confident that she is,” Raimie answered.
He was surprised by the level of hostility he directed at his grandfather. After all, the old man had been the one attacked, and his reaction to an attempt on his life was perfectly reasonable. So why did Raimie feel as though he needed to protect Ren?
“She was going to bring me to her people so I could open negotiations,” he continued. “Hopefully, you haven’t ruined my chances at that.”
Eledis angrily stepped forward, but Marcuset laid a hand on his chest.
“Maybe you should take a walk, my friend, before you do something you might regret.”
Eledis sniffed and spun on his heels. Marcuset and Aramar’s eyes turned on Raimie.
“Are you going to introduce us, Your Majesty?” the commander asked curiously.
Raimie moved to the side so the other two could see the woman he’d been hiding.
“This is Ren, Kheled’s sister. Ren, this is my father and Marcuset, commander of our armed forces.”
“Kheled’s sister?” Marcuset said in surprise.
Aramar professed shock as well.
“That’s right! How do I keep forgetting Khel’s from Auden?”
“So wonderful that my only point of import is my familial relationship to Kheled and nothing else,” Ren snapped.
Raimie took her arm and dragged her a few paces away.
“It’s the only acceptable point of reference I can give them. I can’t mention your other skills and assets because then I’ll have to tell them about the observations I made when you attacked me and Khel. I’m not sure how well they’ll react to news that the girl I’m attempting to befriend has recently tried to kill me,” he whispered fiercely and pointed. “These are my people. I understand things are different here, but not everyone I’ve brought with me will adapt easily. Let me deal with them as I need to.”
“Fine,” she hissed back at him. “Will you be prepared to leave soon? Already I regret promising to wait.”
Raimie gritted his teeth, released her arm, and smiled pleasantly at his companions.
“Ren has informed me that she needs to return home before the sun rises,” he told them, “which means we need to leave soon if I’m to go with her. Further introductions will have to wait.”
“You only returned a moment ago!” Aramar exclaimed. “You can’t even break bread with us?”
“No,” Ren stated.
She stalked out of the tent, Marcuset and Aramar left gaping after her. Raimie shrugged apologetically and made to follow.
“Wait, Your Majesty!” Marcuset called. “At least bring a bodyguard along with you.”
“I don’t think a bodyguard would be any help in-” Raimie began.
“If something goes badly, the one I have in mind will have a higher chance of getting back to us with a message so that we can send help. He used to be a royal spy after all,” Marcuset said.
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Raimie reluctantly agreed.
“Wonderful!”
Marcuset marched to the tent flap and lifted it.
“Oswin!” he yelled into the night.
Raimie snorted. The affable ship captain was a spy? Of course he was.
The man scurried into the tent and stood to attention.
“I’m promoting you to Raimie’s,” Marcuset informed him. “You do exactly as he tells you and protect him to the best of your ability, understood?”
Oswin saluted.
“Yes, sir!”
He turned lazily laughing eyes on his new superior.
“Orders, Your Majesty?” he asked.
“Our first order of business this evening, my good man, is to chase a young woman back home.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
We share a unique bond, Erianger; one that I hope may allow me to slip free from my prison.
Kheled patiently waited for the sweating Kiraak muttering nervously below to make up his mind. The man must have suspected he was being tracked based off of how often he doubled back on his path. His head swiveled in all directions like a hinge which Kheled found amusing. Even knowing an Eselan’s capabilities, the hunted always looked in every direction but the one that mattered: up.
The forest canopy provided plentiful pathways among the intertwined limbs of the trees. It was easy enough to modify hands and feet to provide greater traction on the wood. An Eselan could even grow a tail for better balance, and if there were no trees to hide in, there was always the wind to glide on.
But even if the Kiraak did think to scan the trees towering over him and even if he looked straight at the spot where Kheled crouched, he would only have seen a faint distortion where light bent around the Eselan.
Nestled in his bubble beneath the su
rface of the world, he felt secure in his ability to remain undetected. Not that he didn’t continue to follow his quarry with stealth. One never knew when the bubble might become useless.
He was almost sorry for the Kiraak he trailed. The man faced an impossible choice. Did he immediately return to camp, thereby bringing his pursuer with him, and suffer the guaranteed displeasure of his Overseer, or did he delay delivering the news of an Ele primeancer’s existence to the proper authorities and risk the possible wrath of his Dark Lord?
“I know you’re out there, you gray-eyed bastard!” the Kiraak called out. “You can follow me all you want, but it won’t matter. Come back with me to the fort, and you’ll be captured and tortured to death. You might as well walk away and live to fight another day!”
Bored, Kheled waited for the man to move on which he did after listening intently to the silence for a short while. The healer padded confidently along the tree branches immediately above the Kiraak, shifting his weight with every step to keep the wood from creaking. The thought of slipping never crossed his mind, but if he ever did fall, he could simply draw from Ele and gain the reaction time needed to catch himself.
He spied the canopy cutting off ahead. He leaped from branch to branch until he was low enough to spring for the ground and roll to his feet with minimal crunching and thumping.
The Kiraak came running at the noise, sword drawn. Kheled watched the man search for the noise’s source with increasing frustration. He stopped mere inches from the healer at one point, and the Eselan held his breath, his stomach aching from contained laughter.
Eventually, the Kiraak gave up and continued up the slope and into the open landscape beyond. Kheled followed, but he stopped short at the sight waiting beyond the screen of the trees, his quarry forgotten.
The land rose into a craggy bluff, the forest stripped bare in every direction around it. Neat, orderly lines of tents interspersed with tree stumps ringed the hill’s feet, and an impressive fortress rested upon its crown. A single tower dominated the vista, rising up from the fortress like a lone sentinel. It loomed well above the tree tops, and he could feel its eyes upon him.
He retreated into the forest’s cover. This would require more finesse than he’d thought, and he needed time to prepare. Night would soon descend to devour to world in its dark embrace. He should be finished by then.
* * *
“This is a supremely bad idea,” Creation stated firmly.
He stood over Kheled with arms crossed, making his disapproval known.
“You think all of my ideas are bad,” the healer murmured.
He injected the last of the black ink under his wrist’s skin and replaced the syringe to its pocket. Finished, he inspected his work.
Black, crisscrossing lines covered the back of his hands and his palms as well as a good portion of his wrists. With his long sleeves covering his arms, he hadn’t seen the need to continue further up the limbs.
The disguise was flimsy. On close inspection, his markings would reveal to be nothing more than ink, betrayed by their lack of motion, but they passed a glancing observation.
“Yes well, some are simply unwise, but this one is just bad,” Creation said. “You’ll be captured, and then what? We don’t know what happens if Doldimar kills you first. It could throw the world into chaos for centuries!”
“I won’t get caught, Creation. I’ve faced worse than this,” Kheled calmly replied.
“With help! And someone in the background to drag you out if things turned south!”
“Raimie will come find me if I’m gone too long.”
“That’s a weak assumption to hinge this reality’s balance on!” Creation exclaimed.
Kheled removed his cloak and stretched. His muscles were stiff from spending hours sitting still while he applied the disguise.
“I’m doing this. You’re not talking me out of it.”
“At least tell me why you’re so insistent on this course of action,” Creation pleaded. “It seems like a huge risk for a little information.”
“Did we see different encampments at the base of that tower?” Kheled asked, pointing back toward the fortress. “A veritable army lay in wait there! Raimie and his allies would be crushed before they made any headway if they had to fight it. I find it a little strange that a fortress so close to where we made landing is garrisoned with so many troops, and I intend to find out why it is.”
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” Creation mumbled sullenly.
“You don’t have to agree with me,” Kheled said, “but you do have to do as I say. And I say keep away from the hands, go away, and don’t come back until I specifically call for you.”
Creation glared at him, but the splinter did as he was told to the healer’s relief. For a moment, he’d thought he might get overruled.
He finished stretching and left the safety of the forest.
He skirted the encampment as much as he could. In his experience, commanders and officers never slept in tents exposed to the elements when a much more comfortable alternative existed, and orders were almost always with those officers.
He slunk through the thinnest line of the tents without incident and began his ascent of the bluff. No defined road marked the easiest path up the slope, but the passage of many feet had worn a trail into the grass. It wasn’t a long hike to the fortress walls, but he took it slowly, seizing the opportunity to assess it for weaknesses.
“What’s your business here, Powerless?” a harsh voice brought him down from inspecting the tower.
Two men in heavy plate mail with two-handed swords sheathed at their side blocked access to a small gate in the wall. If it wasn’t for the black vines pulsing in their eyes and under all visible skin, the two might look like the knights of old.
“Report’s come in for my Overseer, and I have the misfortune of delivering it, my betters,” Kheled answered, bowing as low as possible while still meeting their eyes.
He needed to exude the perfect amount of groveling and defiance to fit the station in which the men perceived him. He prayed the naming standard for rank in Doldimar’s army was the same as when he’d left.
The men laughed cruelly and parted.
“Go forth, and take your punishment well, little worm.”
Kheled meekly shuffled between them and scurried from their sight once he passed the gate. He ignored the smaller stone building scattered about the bailey, shooting like an arrow for the tower.
He did note, however, the Kiraak patrolling the entire fortress at regular intervals, and the ballista and catapults that lined the walls. A few trebuchets towered over the buildings in the bailey, positioned to defend every possible approach.
No guard waited at the base of the tower. With so many Kiraak patrolling the fortress, it must have seemed redundant to assign more here. Kheled quietly slipped inside. He made the climb quickly and with little effort, occasionally glancing through windows to see how high he’d come.
A large room rested at the top of the tower, its opulence making Kheled cringe. Red velvet curtains covered the walls from the floor to the rafters save for a small section of the wall with a door leading out onto the balcony and another around the fireplace. The fire within the hearth roared merrily, its light blocked by armchairs and side tables. A four-poster bed stood against the curtains, covered in fluffy sheets and downy pillows. On the opposite side of the room, a massive, claw foot desk took up a disproportionate amount of floor space.
Kheled started there. He rifled through a few drawers and found nothing of use. Frowning, he pulled aside the curtain behind the desk and smirked. It was always behind the painting or the wall hangings.
The safe looked simple enough to crack, but he’d left his tools in his cloak. It was a silly oversight in retrospect. He’d hoped to go the entire trip without touching magic, but if he didn’t have a choice…
Grimacing, he assumed bat’s ears, ready to take on the tumbling lock.
Voices drifted to him f
rom the stair. He drew the curtain back into place, adjusted his legs with difficulty, and leaped to the rafters. He balanced precariously on the thin beam, already trembling from the effort.
“-ave him publicly flogged. I’m perfectly aware that our Lord Doldimar disdains rank and order and allows the Kiraak to run rampant closer to Uduli, but the two are necessary on the fringes of his empire where rebels continue to have a foothold.”
Teron climbed the last stair into what could only be his room followed by a female Overseer.
Kheled fought to hold still. There he was, the man who’d led the raid that killed his parents. During their last two encounters, he’d been concerned with keeping Raimie alive, but now, all that stood between him and Teron was a single female Kiraak.
“Why not publicly execute him, Great One?” she asked.
“I dislike harvesting the general populace unless we must. To that end, we mustn’t deplete our resources before we have to, so let’s avoid thinning the ranks for now,” Teron answered patiently.
He ran a hand over the papers covering his desk.
“Anything else of note, Nessa?”
“A strange report from the lone survivor of a scouting party, Great One. He claims that an Ele primeancer wiped out his comrades. I’ll have him beaten for the lie, but I thought it of note.”
“Where is he claiming this occurred?” Teron asked intently, his voice dipping dangerously low.
“South Cerrin Forest, Great One,” Nessa replied, taking a nervous step back.
“One of them must have survived. Damn it!”
He slapped the papers from the desk. Nessa flinched and clasped her hands in front of her, waiting apprehensively on her superior.
“Go ahead with the order to march on the bay,” Teron ordered once he’d relaxed his clenched fists. “It seems we have a greater infestation to eliminate than originally estimated.”
“Yes, Great One!”
Nessa snapped a salute.
“Before you go, my dear, would you mind disposing of our little spy?” Teron asked her pleasantly. “Can’t have him relaying our intentions to his friends.”
The Undying Champions (The Eternal War Book 1) Page 59