Tragedy (Forsaken Lands)

by Cooper, Sydney M.

  "Well that would be quite silly, wouldn't it?" Leniq tempered his expression to show no emotion. "Me, telling you the greater plan in the world while you still live in defiance? You think me and idiot, Baron."

  "What becomes of the asylums?" Telani demanded. Even the Justices gave pause to dragging him out of the room in the midst of such forceful defiance. "Why take me into custody? What have I done to warrant this treatment?"

  A smile threatened to break Leniq's porcelain facade. He inclined his head amenably. "It's this very kind of behavior which brings you to my desk. You do not take instruction well. It will never do."

  "No one would do what you're asking me to do. The blight-touched cannot be set to the streets unprotected!"

  "Their disposition is not my concern. I am giving you a chance to take your leave of Nivenea with me, but only if you decide to cooperate. Perhaps time in the cell will soften you to the idea."

  "Leave Nivenea? Why?" Telani's good eye narrowed to a fine slit. "You're speaking in riddles."

  "If you do not leave Nivenea, you will be forced to stay and suffer the consequences. A week from now or two weeks, you wil Van>utze=l come with me. I have faith in your intelligence." Leniq motioned towards the door behind his guests, "Let them know when you would like to see me again."

  Leniq could feel the shift in Telani's energy before he made a move. The once-stately politician wrenched his body to the side to slam into one of the Justices, knocking her off-balance. Telani writhed, making a play for the door when the second Justice dispensed him with a bar of kelspar to the groin. The Baron cried out in pain and shock, reduced to his knees. He drew shallow, labored breaths.

  Leniq sighed. The Justice who was on the receiving end of the struggle straightened and bowed her head.

  "I apologize, sir. The outburst was unacceptable."

  "It's no fault of yours." Leniq raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Be careful with him, will you please?"

  "Of course." Giving a series of sharp gestures to her companion, the two Justices took Telani by the arms to drag him out of the office door. On their way they nearly brushed against Neleid, a short, brown-skinned man with a single braid down his back. He held the door or them as they passed.

  Leniq huffed a sigh, rubbing his eyes. Evenings in his office had become significantly less relaxed since he assumed control of Nivenea's government in Lenna and Alteas's absence. As High Priest off Nivenea and head of the Divine Council he had his share of meetings, but lately it had become unruly.

  "Busy day?" Neleid asked politely, clicking the door shut behind the Justices and their prisoner.

  "Is there any other kind?" Leniq indicated the chair opposite him, pulling a bottle of halas and two shallow glasses from under his desk. He poured three fingers of the clear liquor in each glass, sliding one of them across the desk. "You have news of the Deldri?"

  "We have scouts tracking them. It seems that they're looking for Mareth."

  "Mareth? Oh, Garren, you're losing your touch." Leniq nearly spat out his drink laughing. "Why haven't they been picked up yet?"

  "Garren has thrown them off their trail several times. They've attempted ambush twice, but the killer is always with the healer. The men are afraid."

  "I thought that they understood that they are sacrifice."

  "I will remind them."

  "Hm." Leniq sighed. The pressure for him to acquire the remaining Deldri was getting heated - soon mere requests would become threats. He didn't care for that. He had every faith that he could capture them, but Garren was proving to be a larger nuisance than he expected, filling their minds with hope. Mareth, really. How desperate.

  "There is... other news... from the border. Kaldari have been crossing over the mountains [the" align= between Chall and Derethi every day. Could be hundreds, maybe even thousands. Several clergy from Torvid's Rest have appeared in the cities saying that they were burned out of the temple by Kaldari warriors. It is believed that the Kaldari are coming for Nivenea."

  "And?"

  "Do you have instructions? Should we organize the Justices, or-"

  "No, Neleid, that won't be necessary."

  "But sir, they will strike before winter, I am sure of it. The port in Feya had already been devastated by the quake, and the Kaldari sail for her shores. It is only a matter of time-"

  "Trust me, we will be far from here by the time Drei and her savages make an appearance. Let them come."

  * * *

  Elden leaned his weight against the newly-stained wooden banister, looking out over the bar scene below with a tincture of fire in his hands. The establishment, while not necessarily new, was well-kept and recently repainted. Smoke and soft chatter wafted up to his quiet indoor balcony, keeping him company like an old friend. A young woman played a pleasant song her violin against the far wall, just beyond his view. Two bartenders worked in tandem behind the L-shaped bar, a handful of young people gathered around ordering drinks and talking. The tall bar tables were abandoned at the periphery - everyone wanted to be close to everyone else, except him. Solitude was quite to his liking.

  Taking a drag from the covash smoke between his lips, he smiled to himself. While most of the dozen-or-so people in the room were having a good time, there was discord off to the corner of the bar between the slender, fair-haired Willow and her painfully thin summer-colored boyfriend, Douglass. Willow was on the offense again, her tree twig finger pointed squarely at Douglass's chest. Elden could read the cluelessness plain on Douglass's face.

  It would have been easier to feel bad for the sap if he wasn't the thousandth man in Vail to get tangled up with Willow. Elden made it with her for a solid week before Willow's malicious nature drove him away. It was all well enough - the sex was good, and he only expected to get a night or two out of it at the maximum. He could call it a win in hindsight.

  Douglass, on the other hand, was never the brightest kid in Vail. He had an undying belief in one day finding a woman and having a family, even as he destroyed his body with covash and lylic. He was the last of the romantics.

  In the year since he arrived in Vail Elden had made many acquaintances, but no real friends. To even think that he might someday find a person to settle down with was preposterous. He had yet to meet a man or woman who could accept the fluid nature of his existence. Six years ago he left his home in the border town of Chall to travel the world. In that time he had lived in at least a dozen different places. Each time he found a place to stay, something seemed to happen. He would save someone falling off a roof, or he would shatter the entire bar's stock of glassware, and suddenly wherever he was living lost its hospitable charm. Surviving an entire year in Vail without incident was nothing s [wassudhort of miraculous.

  Elden glanced about his dark little corner, a six-foot-long space with two broken down tables and sets of chairs. Only card players ever came up to the balcony, and even then only on third nights. No one ever bothered him when he took over the space. He tossed back the rest of his drink, distantly missing the way it used to burn his throat. Too many years of drinking the swill numbed him to the sensation. Even the energizing buzz from the tincture’s herbs barely touched him anymore. They only served to keep him sane.

  Night air blew through as the front door opened below him. At the base of the staircase to his dark, abandoned balcony was the doorway to the outside, and in the doorway stood an intriguing young woman. Her auburn hair was spun back in a bun to reveal wide cheekbones. Underneath her cloak she was dressed in the work clothes of a healer, or perhaps an engineer - he could never tell the two apart. He could visualize her curves, the kind he hadn't seen on one of the local girls. She had to be either a traveler or new to the town.

  He almost yelped when she looked up at him like she could hear him thinking. Her eyes were striking, the color of new spring lilacs with a sheen of intelligence. She screwed up her lips to one side of her face thoughtfully. As quickly as she commanded his attention she suddenly broke from it, approaching the bar to place her o
rder.

  She maintained a healthy barrier between herself and the others around her. No one came close or spoke to her. She watched them, just as he watched them. She sat a few minutes examining the others around her before her drink arrived, and she turned her attention back on him.

  His curiosity sufficiently piqued, Elden took one last puff from his light before he gripped the edge of the banister and hopped over it to the stairs below. He was not a large man, standing 5'11" with the physique of someone who clearly spent more coin on tincture than bread. His boots landed softly on the wood, calling for glances from only a handful of patrons who quickly shrugged it off. They expected such things of him anymore. Vail was getting too comfortable with his presence.

  The girl kept sidelong eyes on him, a mug of ale in her hand. Her intensity was almost a deterrent, the way she analyzed him without a word. He put on his best lazy, alluring half-grin, to make it look like he didn't notice. Men and women instinctively moved away when he walked up beside her. It was for best, for certain; if they didn't move, he would have had to push them. No one enjoyed that.

  Domini, the large, black-haired bartender at that side of the bar gave Elden a casual wave.

  "Need anything E?" Domini's booming voice asked.

  Elden shook his head, strands of slightly-too-long golden brown hair brushing over his eyes. "Good here Dom."

  The girl was amused even by his brief exchange with the bartender. She raised one eyebrow, sipping her ale delicately like she might sip tea.

  "Can I help you with something, then?" she asked. In her voice he could hear the hint of an accent, one he'd heard from people raised outside the cities. A country girl.

  "Might be," said Elden. [; sd out He offered a hand to her, which she shook with a light touch, her pale skin contrasting against his olive-tan hands. "You must not be from here."

  "I'm from Alta," she said smoothly, withdrawing the hand. Her accent didn't match her statement, but it was no matter. "Came here for work."

  "Oh yeah? What sorta work?"

  "Not the kind you're looking for," she said with a laugh.

  Feigning insult, Elden guffawed. "Have I said something unwelcome?"

  "No, you haven't said anything of that sort."

  The way she responded was curious, like someone who was lying by omission. If he were looking for something serious, he would have walked away immediately. He could see that she was trouble on legs. It didn't stop him with Willow, either.

  "You're not in here looking to make friends, are you?" he challenged her.

  "Neither are you," she used a frustratingly matter-of-fact tone. "I'm an alchemist, since you really want to know."

  "So you're here to fix the town."

  "Town would have to want fixing." She looked him up and down critically. "So would you."

  "Nothing broken here, hon." He gestured with flourish.

  "Oh, no doubt." She laughed at a private joke. "Where are you from?"

  "Nivenea," he lied.

  "I spent a while there," she said. "Nice place. Why'd you leave?"

  "That many gifted people in one place makes me nervous." Half-truth, this time. He was gifted himself, but not in any way that people respected. His parents were gifted, too, but like most of the divinely gifted, they had a narrow definition for who did and did not fit in their world view. Elden was never able to meet that standard.

  "So what do you do here?"

  Grow covash and piss on the law. "Handy man. I do whatever people need."

  A subtly as he could manage, he used his mind’s eye to travel the outline of her body. He pulled her towards him only by a half centimeter, gently. It was something he had done a hundred times before on other potential partners. Usually the slight decrease in distance between them encouraged discussion.

  She was the first person to ever react to it directly. She jerked, pushing further away from him. His mind's feather-touch disintegrated against any amount of her strength. The sizzle of anger was in her eyes when she looked at him.

  She couldn't know it was him, could she? No one else ever had. Coincidence [. C

  "Well, it's been lovely, but I have places to be," he winked with more confidence than he felt. Retreat was not his specialty. "Handy work and all that."

  Before he could turn away she grabbed his wrist, her fingers locked tightly against his skin. She narrowed her eyes. "What's your name?"

  "Elden," he blurted unintentionally, and regretted it. Something told him that he didn't want her to know his name. "What's yours?"

  "Delia." She abruptly let go.

  An awkward pause grew between them. He didn't know what to do with his hands or his face. After several long seconds he finally withdrew. He saluted Dom casually on his way to the door, walking slowly even while he wanted to bolt.

  I know what you are, an unwelcome voice intruded on his thoughts. It sounded like Delia's voice, but she had not spoken. He physically shook himself all over to clear his brain, bewildered. He'd had hallucinations before, but rarely were they so clear.

  Maybe he needed to slow it down after all. Folks said that years of tincture could cause strange reactions in people, and he was coming up on 4 years of a bad habit. He pushed the bar door open, letting the icy air filled his lungs. He didn't look back.

  * * *

  The temple of Styrra was a quiet place. The main "hall" was built as an outdoor praying ground, with twelve stone columns in a circle two stories tall, linked at the sky to create a solid ring. A filmy, delicate canopy made of small kelspar threads formed the ceiling, a triumph of engineering. The material filtered the sunlight to the ground in dazzling color, while moonlight cast a brilliant, crystal midnight blue, making the entire complex appear as if it were underwater.

  Styrra was the goddess of plant life, and her temple honored her to perfection. The Daylas River ran through the center of the temple, manmade stone reflecting pools fed off of its waters. Willow trees with their grand trunks made shaded grottos of private meditation; ferns and mosses cushioned the feet of the temple's patrons. The beauty was breathtaking, no matter the day or time.

  Were he still a religious man, Teveres would have appreciated the trip to the temple much more. Crouched beside one of the willows with his fingertips brushing the reflecting pool waters, he was keenly aware of everything and everyone around him. There were four other temple night-goers, each quietly praying in individual grottos. Two females and one male were dressed in common clothes, mere citizens of the nearby city of Vail. The fourth person, another male, was different. He too wore common clothes, but he also wore a hood up over his face and a dagger at his side. Teveres would recognize the craftsmanship of the clergy's blacksmith anywhere.

  Many things had changed since Teveres left Torvid's Rest four weeks earlier. After Garre [. A/p> Deldri set out to find support. On their way east they observed Torvid's Rest, but Drei and her entourage had long disappeared; Garren reasoned that she must have fled south to meet with a cadre of warriors for her attack on Nivenea. Finding Drei was a long shot at best and suicide at worst. Their most reasonable option to defray the coming war was to warn the Divine Council and appeal for their help.

  Garren explained that of the Divine Council members, 6 of the 12 were either corrupted or dead. The Kaldari and the Followers had spent years investing in the members, and unfortunately many of them fell prey to greed as easily as any other person. Garren was acquainted with all of them, and he trusted only one to help them: the priest Mareth, of Alta.

  When they reached Alta, Mareth was not there. In his place were rumors of the priest's flight after the capture of Lenna and Alteas. They scoured the city for information which led them through the countryside east of Nivenea, until they finally found a drunken stableman whose penchant for observation and wandering thoughts pointed them towards Vail.

  Teveres tapped a fingertip against his thigh with nervous tension, his arms completely hidden under his cloak. So many weeks of travelling, all the threats and blackmail
he employed, and finally they were on the edge of their catch. He knew that the man in the cape was Mareth - he had to be. Though it had been years since he laid eyes on the man, he had no doubts about his identity. He caught Mareth's stray thoughts, and they were indeed prayers of clergy. The prayers so sincerely invoked amused Teveres. Mareth still believed in the gods wholeheartedly.

  Mareth stooped to his knees in continued prayer beside his reflecting pool. Teveres kept his gaze trained on the northeast corner, representing wood, impatiently awaiting his sign. When he could hardly bear it any longer, there was a half-second flash of green light, Les's signal that he and Garren were successful. Teveres's fidgeting hands were still when he rose.

  In the weeks they travelled, Teveres spent much of their idle time sharpening the skills he learned as clergy. Reprising his abilities, he consciously created a barrier of energy around himself as he traversed the hundred-or-so meters to Mareth's grotto. His boots were soundless on the earth; his breath did not stir the air.

  Teveres came up behind his target. He pressed his dagger in between the priest's lowest ribs, his arm wrapped around the man in a manner which would look friendly from afar. Mareth's muscles went hard under Teveres's touch, but he did not cry out.

  "Good evening, High Priest," Teveres whispered in Mareth's ear.

  Mareth dared not move even to retrieve his own weapon. He spoke calmly, his voice aged and wispy. "It seems you have me."

  "You're not an easy man to find," Teveres said, relieving Mareth of his blade. "I have some business I would like to discuss with you."

  "And who are you, Priest?" Mareth asked, "Did Leniq send you?"

  Teveres ["+0Prinudged Mareth to standing, slowly guiding him through the breathtaking temple landscape to the edge of the column's ring. He let Mareth walk in front of him, Teveres's dagger hidden at the ready under his sleeve. "They call me the bane of Ilvan."

  "Teveres," Mareth breathed. In his surprise, there was a brief hitch in Mareth's step. "I thought you were dead."