Path of Tears (Saga of The Wolf Book 2)

by Kris A Hiatt

  “I’m not–” Moff started to say before Drevic interrupted him with an upraised hand.

  Treace shouldn’t have been surprised that Moffred had started telling the story of what had happened. He wondered how far Moff’s version varied from the truth.

  “Welcome back,” Drevic said somberly.

  Treace wasn’t expecting a party upon his return, but everyone in the room silently stared at him with grim faces. He wondered what Moffred had told them.

  “Well done!” Kelvrin said, breaking the awkward silence.

  Treace looked to Moff who merely shrugged his shoulders and offered up a mischievous grin. Both Drevic and Edas looked at him with pity in their eyes.

  “I’m not certain anything was done well,” Treace argued, looking at the assembled individuals with skepticism.

  “Nonsense,” Drevic told him. “You saved the lives of two people. I’d say that’s something.”

  “How much have you told them?” Treace asked Moffred, ignoring Drevic’s statement for the time being. He didn’t like the looks they were giving him.

  “Everything,” Moff said simply.

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” Moff confirmed. “How we were set upon by Disdane and how you valiantly stepped in front of him to try to give us time to escape. They know that Kint sadly sacrificed himself to save us.”

  Treace nodded at each item said. He didn’t think he was valiant, but he knew Moff could embellish a story like no other.

  “I told them of how bravely you fought before dropping your weapon to save my life when Jass surprised us. I told them of how you managed to trick a guard into checking on your broken chains before you took his weapon and freed yourself of your shackles.”

  Treace knew it was going to happen. He knew the lie needed to be told, but he wanted to be the one to tell it instead of someone else. He supposed Moff hurriedly told the story so that Treace wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell the truth. He wasn’t going to, but he understood why Moff would think he might.

  “I told them of how you expertly dispatched of those men during our escape and of our sail home. Neither of us would be alive if it weren’t for you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a hero.”

  “You’re a brave man,” Edas told him, raising a glass.

  “To our hero,” Kelvrin said, also raising his glass.

  While it was true they were toasting him, there was sympathy in their voices, not admiration. Treace got the feeling there was something he was missing and it annoyed him. Normally, he would have said nothing, but in his annoyed state he felt the need to set the record straight. “The real hero is Kint. He sacrificed himself to save all three of us. Without him we wouldn’t be alive. If you want a hero, it’s him, not me.”

  “Kint’s sacrifice does not go unnoticed,” Drevic said softly. “But neither does what you’ve done. Kint is a hero. To sacrifice yourself to save another life is something Kaden looks upon favorably.”

  Treace understood the gesture, but adding Kaden into the story was a bit much. Perhaps the time he had spent in the priory had somehow rubbed off on the Archmagister. “So the Church would have us believe,” Treace told him.

  “Young man,” Edas said. “We are the Church now.”

  “What?” Treace protested.

  “A lot has changed in the past couple of weeks,” Drevic told him. “One of them being that we are no longer a part of the College. We are the Church.”

  “How is that even possible?” Treace asked.

  “We’ve been gone only a couple of weeks,” Moffred maintained.

  “That’s a discussion for another time. Right now I’m just glad you’re here safe and sound. Kint’s death is tragic, both in the sense of losing a man and in losing his knowledge of the older ways. At some point I’d like to discuss his abilities, but now is not the time for that either,” Drevic explained before nodding to Exodin.

  Treace wondered exactly what they were here to discuss since everything else seemed to be for another time.

  “I know you’ve had a very difficult last couple of weeks. Much more so than any of us thought or could have imagined. But I’m afraid it’s about to get worse,” Exodin told him.

  What could be worse than being imprisoned and nearly killed? Treace quickly ran scenarios through his head. The change to the Church was certainly a shock. He didn’t understand the reasoning behind it, and while he didn’t completely oppose it, neither did he think it was the best idea. But that couldn’t be what Exodin was talking about. He was certain nothing happened to Liernin or else he’d have heard about it by now. Exodin had made it here safely. It hit him then. Where was Heral? “Is he okay?”

  “Who?” Exodin asked cautiously.

  “Heral. Is that who you’re talking about? He’s not here. Where is he?” Treace asked, suddenly concerned for his friend.

  “He’s in Lake City.”

  “Why is he still there?” Treace asked. Deep down, he knew something bad had happened. He didn’t know what but the fact that they were being overly cautious gave him pause and angered him at the same time. “Someone just tell me what’s going on!” he said forcefully.

  “Your mother is sick and he went there to try to heal her,” Exodin explained.

  Treace’s spirits lifted momentarily. If his mother was sick, he knew Heral would be able to purge any ailment from her body. Drevic surely knew that, so why was he looking so grim? It dawned on him then and was nearly overwhelmed with sadness. “You’re all looking so sad because you know there’s nothing Heral can do. Her sickness is in her mind, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Exodin confirmed. “Her fits are becoming more frequent and the medical doesn’t know how to fix it either. She can hardly speak or eat anything without having a coughing fit. She has a hard time remembering things she did only moments before.”

  Being already fatigued both mentally and physically from his ordeal and after hearing the news of his mother, Treace couldn’t help but to break down. He fell heavily into a chair and placed his head in his hands. Magic would not help her recover from her condition. It was possible that future attacks could be prevented by healing, but whatever damage was done to her brain would remain that way. He needed to see her. He didn’t care about Shamir, he didn’t care about being part of the Church, and he didn’t care about magic. Magic couldn’t help his mother. What good was it? Nothing else mattered other than seeing his mother. He needed to go. He wiped away the tears that formed in his eyes and got up to leave.

  “Brother Baros is making all the arrangements you need to leave in the morning,” Drevic told him.

  At least he knew why all of them wore looks of pity when he first entered the room. They already knew.

  “I’ll travel with you, my friend,” Exodin said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “Me too,” Moffred chimed in.

  “There’s nothing either of you can do,” Treace pointed out, though in truth he was glad to hear them offer to come with him.

  “We can do nothing together then,” Moffred told him.

  “I need to wrap up some loose ends there, but I also agree with your friend,” Exodin said. “Just being there is sometimes enough.”

  Treace was glad to have Moffred with him. Exodin was more or less just agreeing with Moff, but it still meant something at least.

  “I don’t need to remind you that there’s much work to do, but, regardless, take the time you need,” Drevic offered. “We’ll be here when you return.”

  “Thank you Archmagister,” Treace told him. He didn’t need to be reminded, he knew what still needed to be done. Shamir wasn’t going away. Even so, that would have to wait.

  “Archbishop,” Drevic corrected. “And you’re welcome. Perhaps we are all wrong and Heral has already taken care of the issue.”

  “We can hope,” Edas offered.

  Treace thought he sounded doubtful, but he didn’t blame him. He was doubtful himself.

  ~~~

 
; Treace felt like he had gone from one ordeal that he had no control over into another in which he felt the same. Obviously for differing reasons, but still, he couldn’t control his mother’s sickness any more than he could control Shamir’s actions.

  As he finished packing his things, he realized he was in the same position a few weeks ago, before he found out he was traveling to Kadenton instead of Lake City. But back then, he was excited to see his mother and Jensen. He was excited to see Exodin again. Now, his reunion with Exodin was far from what he expected and he was scared of what he’d find in Lake City. What if there was nothing they could do for his mother?

  A few weeks ago he was excited to return home. This time he dreaded it. Not for what he knew was there, but simply because he didn’t know what the future held.

  “Sometimes I think you are your own worst enemy,” Kiril said thoughtfully from the chair in his room.

  “Disdane would disagree,” he argued.

  “You can’t fight every enemy,” she told him.

  “I did fight him. I lost.”

  “I’m not speaking of Disdane. I’m speaking of whatever it is that’s running through your mind. Sometimes we have to accept things for what they are and stop fighting it,” she said softly.

  Treace got the feeling she was talking to herself as much as him. “Those words should hold true for you as well,” Treace reminded her.

  “They do,” she admitted. “Which is why I’m going with you.”

  Treace opened his mouth to argue against it, but realized he didn’t want to so he snapped his mouth shut. Originally, she was going to stay with Drevic and try to piece together what she knew of Kint’s teaching methods and the old ways. To hear her say she was going with him gave him a sense of security that he couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was because she had admitted she had come to terms with her father’s death and knowing his mother was most likely beyond healing, he hoped he could lean on her or gain some insight from her tragic experience. Or maybe it was only because he enjoyed her company. He thought that might be the biggest reason.

  “For a second there I thought you were going to tell me you didn’t want me to go with you,” Kiril said.

  “I was going to, but I would have been lying.”

  There came a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” Treace asked.

  There wasn’t a response before the door opened and a man clad in the garb of one of Liernin’s guards walked in.

  “The commander has requested you wear this on your trip,” the man said, motioning for the man behind him.

  Treace recognized his armor immediately. What need of his armor would he have in Lake City? “Why?”

  “From him,” the man said, handing Treace a letter as the other set the armor down on the Treace’s bed.

  They both offered a quick nod and exited the room.

  “What does it say?” Kiril asked.

  Treace unfolded the letter and read it over. “I’m a recruitment poster,” he said, tossing the letter to the floor.

  Kiril picked up the letter and read it over. “It says to proudly display your support for Liernin,” Kiril pointed out.

  “Tabor had the armor made for me. He didn’t know I overheard him, but he said it was because with me wearing it, it would help them recruit new members for the war.”

  “Whatever the reason, it looks expensive,” Kiril noted.

  “I’m not wearing it.”

  ~~~

  Treace looked back over his shoulder as he exited the city. Two guards stationed at the gate saluted as he and Exodin passed. Behind them, Moffred and Kiril rode their horses next to each other. Kiril wore a guilty smile.

  “What?” Treace asked, uncertain he wanted to know what she was smiling about.

  “It looks good on you.”

  Treace faced forward again without responding. He looked down at his black armor and couldn’t believe he let Kiril talk him into wearing it. He knew they would need all the men they could get after hearing that Drokier had six thousand men on hand to wage a war with, but he still didn’t want to wear it. He realized he hadn’t told anyone what Drokier had said. “Six thousand men,” he blurted out, turning to face Exodin.

  “Huh?”

  “Shamir has over six thousand men at his command,” Treace clarified.

  “Truly?”

  “As far as I know, yes,” Treace confirmed. He thought there was a chance that Drokier was lying about the number, but if Treace was in his shoes, he’d be more apt to say he had fewer than his true number of men rather than more.

  “We’ve still got time,” Exodin said confidently.

  “How many do we have?” Treace dared to ask, not sure he wanted to know the truth.

  “About half that.”

  “You don’t sound like having half his men bothers you,” Treace pointed out.

  “Should I panic and run for the hills?”

  “No, but it doesn’t concern you?”

  “Of course it concerns me,” Exodin admitted. “But unless he wants to march his men through winter, he won’t attack until spring. That gives us time to get more men and train them.”

  “And if he doesn’t wait?” Treace asked, knowing Shamir’s impatient nature.

  “He will,” Exodin stated with confidence.

  “And you’re certain?” Treace asked skeptically. Tabor was busy trying to ensure the men were ready for war before the first fall leaves hit the ground.

  “The winters there are much milder. His men wouldn’t fare so well fighting during the winter here. He has to know that. He’ll wait until spring.”

  “Let’s hope,” Treace said. “And on a different subject, I’m surprised Liernin’s letting you go back to Lake City.”

  “I left to come tell you about your mother. I met Heral by chance on the road. When he heard about your mother he went on to try to heal her and I came here. I’ve still got things I need to take care of before I can remain here,” Exodin explained.

  “Oh,” Treace said, not thinking of anything else to say.

  “And your friend Wren is making life difficult for me and everyone else,” Exodin added. “He’s got his father’s ear for sure. It’s like every decision comes from him instead of the constable.”

  Treace didn’t reply. Instead he again thought about how he had originally looked forward to traveling back to Lake City. Before he was instead sent to find Kint. At the time, he was throwing Wren in with the likes of Shamir and Brental as being a bully. He wanted revenge on the man for all the things he’d done, especially for hitting him in the head with a rock. After everything he’d been through recently, he realized just how childish it was of him to think that way. They were kids when it happened. Wren was most likely still an idiot, but Treace thought he had to of grown up some by now.

  Exodin turned his way as if looking for a response. When he didn’t get one, he faced forward again and rode in silence.

  It was nice to be going home. It was nicer yet to have his friends with him. Behind him, Moffred and Kiril were chatting about random topics that had, thankfully, nothing to do with him. He was glad to hear them speaking openly again rather than being stuck in their own minds.

  He couldn’t wait to give his mother a hug and in less than a week, he’d be able to do so. Whether or not she was ill, she was still getting a bear hug from her son.

  Chapter 28

  It was going as well as could be expected. At least that’s what Drevic tried to tell himself as he watched the group exit the room. Except this time, he needed progress to be much better than expected.

  For the past three days he’d been working with the members of the Church that had remained with Yelsn. The ones that had no formal training or education like the former members of the College had. He knew teaching them The Calm would be tough. He held no disbelief that he would get them all to successfully find The Calm before the spring. He held little hope that the few he’d get to find it would also be able to master it and Path of Hear
t before war started. Assuming, that is, that there would be one and that it would happen in the spring as the military minds seemed to believe.

  “We knew it wouldn’t be easy,” Edas offered, most likely reading the expression on his face.

  “I know,” Drevic replied.

  “Are you having doubts then?” Edas asked.

  “About what?”

  “Being the Archbishop. Training them,” he said motioning in the direction of the group that just exited the room. “Any of it. All of it.”

  “You sound as if you are,” Drevic told him.

  “Truth be told, I guess I am,” Edas admitted. “Not about you being Archbishop of course. But of what our part is supposed to be in all of this.”

  Edas was ever against fighting. Drevic knew it, but he also knew that it was inevitable and, unfortunately, most likely necessary. Shamir was not giving up on his claim to be King and neither was he backing down on his threat to take Haven by force if Liernin didn’t surrender by spring. There were some, the minority by far, that believed they should give in to Shamir’s demands, but Liernin would have no part in listening to those kinds of talks. “We’ll be there to support his troops as best as we can. Once they fall, if we can get to them in time, perhaps they’ll live to fight another day.”

  “Only to fall once again,” Edas pointed out.

  “We have to try, Edas. Would you rather we give in to the tyrant?”

  “No, I don’t. It’s just that I don’t like the idea of sending hundreds, if not thousands, of men to their deaths.”

  “Nor do I. But that decision is not ours to make. And before you begin to judge Liernin,” Drevic said, seeing the man about to protest. “The alternative is to hand over his land, and his subjects, to Shamir. We can’t ask Liernin to stand aside, nor should he. The only thing we can do is be there when the men need us and then do what we can when they do.”

  “Even if we do get this newest handful ready, I’m afraid that won’t be much,” Edas stated.

  Drevic didn’t disagree, but he knew they needed to try.

  “Here comes your errand boy,” Edas remarked.

  Drevic looked to see Brother Baros approaching.