The Godseeker Duet

by David A Willson

  Mykel bled from a dozen cuts, despite having already healed several more serious ones. This man was more than a brute. He was a supremely skilled swordsman, and Mykel would meet his end right here if he didn't develop a better strategy. His concern for Nara's safety rose to a fevered pitch. Failure would bring Nara's suffering, and he could not allow that to happen.

  Then something changed. It started in his feet. A tingle. A sensation of warmth coming up from the ground. Power. Strength. It flooded into him whenever his bare soles contacted the earth. He stopped moving and planted his feet like a tree, soaking in the magic. It was Nara. He could feel her strength and her personality, so familiar and oh so powerful!

  He stole a look back and saw her kneeling on the ground at the bottom of the ramp, eyes closed and hands on the dirt. He closed his eyes to draw upon her strength, and the enemy's blade rammed straight through his gut, impaling him to the hilt. Pain lanced through his belly, threatening to drop him, but the magic came up from the earth, providing power enough to summon his runes. Four popped into view, clear, distinct, and within his grasp.

  He felt the blade pull back, then he flared health, repairing his whole body. Every wound closed, including the otherwise fatal wound the man had just inflicted. Keeping his eyes shut, Mykel held all the runes in his vision at once, each begging to be fed. He chose the sight rune, and the contest abruptly changed.

  As Mykel charged forward away from her, Nara sensed the growing distance and stood to walk up the ramp. She did not want him to move so far that she couldn't reach him with the magic. Now standing at the top, she continued to feed the energy to him but opened her eyes so that she could also see his efforts. Concern for his safety faded as she sensed Mykel heal his wounds and move forward, gaining ground on the man.

  He attacked relentlessly, but not randomly. Each strike was perfect as if he knew exactly where to aim. His dreams of being a warrior had come to fruition. He was amazing—at only sixteen, battling a man who was clearly a seasoned combatant. And Mykel was winning! Nara was proud of her friend, and wondered how he had grown to be so strong. To be so sure of himself. Was it the need to protect her that gave him this courage? Or the years of standing up to his father, of protecting Sammy?

  The man blocked and countered but gave ground, retreating slowly as Mykel's staff whirled and swept and thrust, swinging perfectly. He predicted his opponent's every step and interrupted each of the man's attacks. Gleaming ivory impacted the giant's legs, arms, and belly, and then swept him off his feet.

  The man rolled to his feet, eyes wide in shock. Nara reached out with her feelings to sense the distress in him. It wasn't fear, at least not yet, but instead a profound sense of surprise.

  "Almit!" the man bellowed.

  The smaller soldier joined in the fray, and Mykel paused, repositioning himself. A seeming reluctance in his steps made it clear that Mykel did not know what to do with multiple opponents. The two soldiers pressed forward in tandem, and Mykel moved back across the plateau in response, blocking blows as he retreated.

  As he found his bearing and reacted to the attacks, Mykel seemed to gather confidence again. A deserved confidence, Nara surmised, as he barred every cut they attempted, every slash, every thrust, and he still had his eyes closed. Nara concentrated ever more on the magic that she sent to her friend, along with her hopes that he would defeat these men. She felt pain lance across her own skin as Mykel's arms were struck with the swords, then the pain abruptly faded as Mykel healed himself.

  Suddenly, Mykel moved aggressively on them, overcoming the challenge of both at once. With the speed of lightning, he delivered a distracting blow to the larger man's rib cage, then charged the one called Almit, executing a spinning move that feinted a kick high but ended with the staff impacting the man's left thigh. A loud crack gave evidence of a crippling injury to the soldier’s upper leg bone, and the man cried out in pain and shock.

  "Get back," the larger man said to Almit. The large man then charged Mykel, who met the advance firmly, returning blows against the giant's torso and pummeling him again with the staff. Returning the aggression in kind, the man's blade cut muscle on Mykel's abdomen. Nara bent over with the pain that came to her, closing her eyes and reaching out to the earth to diffuse the discomfort.

  The large man pressed again, but Mykel struck him several times in his legs and gut, ending with a strike that narrowly missed the man's head. With no helmet, a blow such as that would surely have ended the fight, and now that Mykel's victory was assured, Nara found herself curiously sympathetic toward the man, reaching out to sense his distress yet again. He expended a fierce amount of effort to hold his ground without taking a fatal blow, and the end of his endurance loomed close.

  Nara sensed Mykel press again and expected that victory was imminent. As he battled the giant soldier, he guided a storm of confidence and fury, pushing the man back toward the birch trees, but she sensed Mykel's anger and frustration at the same time. Frustration at what, though?

  Frustration at Gwyn. It was clear now. She had betrayed them. No, it couldn't be!

  She opened her eyes to look for Gwyn, then was surprised to see that the smaller soldier was standing right in front of Nara, one arm supporting his injured leg. Nara’s eyes opened wide as the man’s blade moved quickly to impale her shoulder.

  The pain was both sharp and dull at the same time. He had hit bone. She buckled to her knees, the agony breaking her connection to the earth and to Mykel. Nausea started in her belly and moved to her throat. Warm, stinging pain arced like lightning up through her neck, overwhelming her vision and causing her to stumble to the ground. As her head went fuzzy, she heard Bylo's shouts from behind her, screaming at her to get up.

  Her head hit the dirt, Bylo's voice disappeared, and she became lost in the misery.

  "Got her!"

  The shout came from behind Mykel, and the strength coming from below his feet vanished, the warmth ceasing. He looked over at the center of the plateau, but the fallen soldier was gone. The man should have been incapacitated after the blow to his leg but had somehow found the strength to move.

  I left her unguarded. I'm a fool!

  He whirled to find the man standing over Nara's crumpled form at the top of the ramp, sword at her throat. Just a flick of his wrist and she would be dead. Mykel had been too absorbed in the contest and wandered away from her. His only purpose was to protect her, and he had failed. He had magic, and he had still failed!

  "Move and he cuts her," the giant said.

  Mykel fought back frustration, furious at himself for leaving Nara open to attack. She had counted on him, foolishly, and he had let her down. And yet, if she had defended herself, she could have beaten them all!

  "If you hurt her, I'll..."

  "You'll do what, little boy?"

  Mykel just stood in place, agonizing over the fate of his friend, and his own failure.

  "Drop the stick, or I give the order and she's done," the man said.

  Mykel dropped the staff.

  The giant's punch came with amazing speed. Mykel moved to block, but without the sight rune and the guidance it gave, his effort failed. The impact upon his temple dropped him into oblivion.

  31

  Fairmont

  On the Road to Fairmont

  The ropes around Bylo's wrists were tight, rubbing his flesh with each bump of the wagon as they ambled down the uneven road. It was nearly dawn, and he and Mykel were imprisoned in a cold, rolling cage of iron bars so small that they could not even stand. Mykel rested next to Bylo on the wagon floor, eyes closed and mouth silent, still unconscious. An ugly bruise was visible on the side of his head.

  Bylo thought back to their capture, how the soldier had stumbled toward the ramp, sword in hand, and stabbed Nara in the shoulder. The larger man had followed thereafter, pushed Bylo aside then forced a vial of red liquid down Nara's throat.

  "Don't kill them. They have value," Gwyn had told the giant. "The minister can use them."
<
br />   The giant had grunted, clearly eager to finish them, but seemed to agree with the traitor. Bylo now felt foolish for allowing Gwyn to unravel their peace. And how could Anne have allowed that evil woman among them? Hadn’t she seen this coming?

  Just a few hours ago, Mykel and Nara had walked hand in hand through the cavern tunnel, leaving Bylo convinced they would live happily ever after. But now, disaster had fallen upon them.

  Still, Bylo found himself oddly grateful to Gwyn that he and Mykel were still alive. Had she remained silent, the giant might have ended them both. But questions remained. What did the minister plan on doing with Nara? And was there anything Bylo could do about it?

  The wagon continued through the darkness and the snow, over hills and across rivers that had started to freeze. The cold lay upon his old body, requiring him to frequently brush off the snowflakes that chilled his skin. Mykel remained shirtless and Bylo moved close to the boy to keep him warm, periodically checking the ugly bruise on the side of his head.

  They arrived at an army encampment about mid-day. Among tents, fires, soldiers, and horses, they were transferred into a wagon with a larger steel cage. A short time later, Mykel stirred, then rose to his knees and frantically tugged on the bars.

  "I already tried," Bylo said. "They are too strong."

  Mykel tried anyway, even spending a few moments kicking at one fiercely. The bars held. Then, oddly, he sat back and closed his eyes, as if sleeping.

  "Mykel," Bylo said.

  "Leave me alone. Please."

  After three days of travel, the chill brought a sore throat upon Bylo. On the fourth day, phlegm began to fill his lungs, and it was clear that an illness had come in a bad way. A soldier brought him a blanket that he tried to share with Mykel, but the youth refused it wordlessly and wouldn't speak. Sometimes he would open his eyes and look around, then resume his silence. At first, Bylo thought it was a profound depression at the circumstances, but when it lingered for several days, he began to wonder if the boy was also ill.

  Bylo's own thoughts dwelled on Nara's safety. Wisdom dictated that her welfare was not as great a concern as their own. The wound she had endured at the end of the fight on the plateau was not life-threatening, and they would care for her, wouldn't they? The minister would surely not destroy such a rare treasure. Or would the villain use her for experiments, try to duplicate her power, or maybe siphon it for his own purposes? Bylo's fatherly heart ached as he pondered her fate and his own failure to protect her, but he resolved to dwell on the positive, trusting that she would be safe. Aside from his manufactured optimism, there could be found no warmth in the back of the wagon, and another coughing fit produced more phlegm, this time tinged with red.

  Early on the fifth day, the wagon lurched upon a rock, jostling the prisoners, and Mykel sat up to look about. The youth had not yet eaten, and Bylo offered a bland biscuit he had saved for him. "Eat them yourself," Mykel said. "I'll be fine."

  Bylo nibbled on the biscuits gratefully, knowing he would need all his strength to ward off the growing sickness.

  "You're thinner already, Mykel. Please eat something."

  "I'm good."

  Perhaps he was being sustained by the health rune? Mykel's efforts to stave off the chill and survive without food might be possible with his magic, but there would be a price.

  “They won't hurt her, son. She's too valuable."

  "Maybe," he said.

  Mykel tested the bars again. A shout from the soldier driving the wagon put an end to his efforts.

  "You're alert," Bylo said. "I was worried."

  "I'm fine," he said, a look of frustration on his face. "I'm thinking."

  "About?"

  He gave no response, but it was good to hear his voice, even if it was more curt than usual.

  On the sixth day, they arrived in Fairmont near sundown, and the city seemed as busy as it had years ago when Bylo last visited. Shopkeepers swept their porches and sent disapproving looks as the prison wagon rolled by. Several times, children ran alongside to steal a glance at Bylo and Mykel.

  "What did you do, old man?" one little girl said, climbing up on the side of the wagon and sticking her head between the bars before a soldier shooed her away.

  Bylo’s cough hadn't worsened today, but neither had it improved. The additional food had helped, as Mykel continued to give his rations to Bylo, accepting only water. The boy's form was ever thinner, but his spirit seemed strong. It was dark when they finally entered the palace gates and were released from the wagon.

  They were led in chains through guarded passageways into a dark part of the grand structure before being thrown into separate cells. Iron bars divided them, but they could speak to each other. Enclosed by walls of damp stone, they were wet, cool, and uncomfortable, but Bylo was grateful that he had been allowed to keep his blanket. The meager light provided by a single lantern in the hallway chased few of the shadows away.

  Escape would likely not be possible, for Bylo's illness made him weaker each day. Mykel could heal, but without his staff, he would see little success in a battle against armed men. Each day, he had been weakening, eating little and passing the food to Bylo to keep him strong. It was a kind gesture, but would ultimately be a futile one. They would both die here. Bylo was old and had played his part, but it would be a dark end to an otherwise promising young man.

  Nara woke in a large room to find herself resting in a lavish canopy bed. Red and white lace draperies hung all around, obscuring the room beyond. How much time had passed? Days? Weeks? Where had they taken her? She reached to her shoulder where the blade had struck, only to find no wound and no bandages. Even unconscious, she must have healed herself. Since she had used the health rune previously, did it now work even when she slept?

  She tried to shake herself awake, but a fog hung about her and she felt heavy. There was no headache to accompany the sluggishness, so this was something different. Had she been drugged? She pulled herself out from under the blankets and stepped into a sitting area with two chairs and a sofa arranged around a small coffee table. On the table sat a teapot and snacks. A young woman in long black hair sat in a chair, facing away from Nara and drinking from a teacup.

  "You slept for a long time," the woman said. Her voice was young and strong.

  "Who are you?" Nara asked. "And where am I?"

  The visitor stood and turned to Nara, revealing a familiar face.

  "You're home, Sister."

  The sight of Nara's own face looking at her made her legs weak, and she nearly dropped to the floor. Delicate features, bright-green eyes. She gazed upon her twin. But black hair?

  In the days since Bylo had shared the truth of her past, Nara had imagined this meeting many times. Thoughts of finding her twin were always associated with a joyful reunion, however. She imagined laughing, a meal shared with Bylo and Mykel, happy times. Not this.

  There were so many questions Nara had wanted to ask in this moment, but they seemed to matter little now. Bylo and Mykel weren't here, and she had no idea where they were, or if they even still lived.

  "Come eat," her sister said, then sat again.

  Nara was hungry, but couldn't bring herself to indulge. Instead, she moved over to the couch to take in the sight of her sister. The girl was impeccably dressed, wearing a strapless black gown with ribbon and lace across her chest and waist. Five large teal jewels hung about her delicate neck, tiny diamonds circling each jewel in a beautiful setting. Rich, like a princess. The black hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, clean and beautifully styled with gentle curls. Nara touched the mess on her own head, intimidated by the contrast.

  "I dye it," the girl said.

  "Oh.” Nara fidgeted with a hole in the knee of her trousers. "Where are they?"

  "Your friends? Safe."

  "You won't tell me?"

  "Why, so you can go to them?" Her sister ate grapes from the platter on the table, speaking between bites. "Papa forbids it. This is your home now. You'l
l stay here."

  Papa?

  The girl didn't smile, but she didn't frown either. Movements and expressions seemed mechanical, or forced, and her words were expressed in even tones, with little embellishment. Even so, her presence was oddly familiar, like a part of Nara long lost, and although there was little joy in this reunion, she experienced a strange peace in being near the young woman.

  "I should do better, I'm sorry," her sister said. "I was hungry." She stood and took a step toward Nara, offering a hand and forcing a gentle smile on her face. "I'm Kayna."

  Nara shook the offered hand, and Kayna sat down to continue eating.

  "They've assigned a handmaiden who'll attend to you soon. Eat, dress, and then His Majesty will see you." Kayna rolled her eyes at the title. Who was she referring to? The prince? Was she in Fairmont Castle?

  "His Majesty?" Nara's question came out softly, and she was frustrated at how she must sound. Weak. And the look of her—so disheveled. Her sister must think very little of her in such a state. Shame washed over her, reminiscent of the teasings of her youth, ridicule from Heidi Trinck or Fannie Taylor. She pulled her legs close, hugging them protectively like the pained blossom of a fire weed.

  "Yes, I'm talking about Papa," she said. "Princess Nara, your father is the king."

  More than an hour after meeting Kayna, two maids attended to Nara, explaining that she would be expected to present herself before the king. At first, she protested—she had no desire to meet him. She then realized that she would learn little about her circumstances and be unable to change them if she didn't play along.