In all, she was happy to have Markus on her side. At a different time, in a different world, she might have even cared for him, but she still felt the pain of her losses. She couldn't let such feelings into her life. Not now.
In the morning, they resumed their westward journey and reached a rundown village along the road, where they found a healer and an inn. From the healer, they purchased new bandages and some herbs that would fight Rik's infection.
At the inn, they ate a good, hearty meal. Even Rik ate a little, though he looked weaker and paler than ever.
After leaving the village, they traveled for three more days, dodging storms. Once, they saw a tornado far to the north, but it didn't threaten them. When at last they reached Riverside, Rik was barely conscious, pus oozed from his wound, and his skin felt like a hot plate straight from the kitchen.
Every muscle in Nadia's body ached from supporting Rik, and she hadn't felt properly dry for a long time. She knew her way around Riverside from previous visits with her father. They walked the cobblestone streets, headed toward the city's center, where they'd find a doctor.
Riverside's buildings were made of wood, and she thought with horror that Warrick could destroy this city like he'd destroyed Crayden.
Shortly after they entered the city, a dark-haired man named Miles noticed them struggling and helped them take Rik to the doctor—a short but grueling march.
The doctor looked at Rik, then ushered them inside with a grave expression. They carried Rik over to a bed and laid him on his side for examination.
The doctor carefully removed the bandages, and Nadia gagged at the foul smell of Rik's infection. Surely he couldn't live. Markus had tried to heal him further, but his abilities only seemed to work once.
"The infection's too far along," the doctor said. "He's going to die."
Rik's voice sounded weak. "Please, there has to be something you can do."
"I'm afraid there isn't," the doctor said. "If you'd gotten here right after the injury, I might have been able to keep the infection under control, but you took too long."
Markus ran a hand through his hair. "You don't understand! Rik's my closest friend. We can't just let him die without even trying."
The doctor couldn't meet Markus's eyes. "I already told you. It's too late. I'm sorry."
Markus sank into a wooden chair and put his head in his hands. Nadia looked away from him, hiding her tears. The last thing he needed to see was her crying.
Was she bad luck? Everyone around her was dying. How many people could she lose and stay sane?
Miles cleared his throat, breaking a tense silence. "There is something you might try."
Everyone stared at him, and the doctor said, "Do you think Taren would actually help them?"
"Stranger things have happened," Miles said.
"You know how I feel about Taren," the doctor said. "People don't change."
"Well, he's the best hope they have." Miles turned to Nadia and Markus. "There's a man across town who might have the means to help you. It'll cost you, though. Do you have money?"
Nadia touched a hand to her pocket. "We have enough."
"For Rik's sake, I hope you do," the doctor said. "I wish you luck."
They replaced Rik's bandages, gagging at the smell of his infection, and left the building. Even with Miles's help, they traveled slowly toward this savior, this Taren, whoever he was. Nadia didn't like the way the doctor had talked about him.
After a few long minutes, they arrived at their destination, a small inn on the city's western side. Miles knocked on the door.
It opened shortly, and a large, middle-aged man stood in the doorway. The man had blond hair shaved very short and wore a thin layer of stubble on his face. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze settling for a long time on Rik.
"You require my help," he said. A statement, not a question.
Markus looked pale. "Can you help us? My closest friend's going to die."
"I gathered that," Taren said. "Come inside."
With Miles's help, they carried Rik into the empty inn. Rik's eyes had a glazed look, and his skin burned hotter than ever. Once Taren cleared a large table, he helped them hoist Rik onto it. Rik groaned feebly.
Taren held out a hand. "Payment."
"How much do you require?" Nadia asked, trying to control her voice. She didn't care for Taren's manner. Too terse. Too demanding.
He narrowed his eyes. "How much do you have?"
She took a moment to consider what might be an appropriate price. They had to ration their money. "Two gold coins."
"You're lying," Taren said. "You have more than that, but two will do."
Nadia handed two gold coins to Taren, then gave him a questioning look. "You still haven't told us what you can do."
Taren started toward the inn's small kitchen, with Nadia and Markus following hesitantly. The man opened a pantry and grabbed two yellow fruits Nadia had never seen before.
"What are those?" she asked.
"Miracle Fruit. Grows up around the Ghost Forest. Emperor Warrick strictly controls its growth and distribution."
"Then how'd you get it?" Markus asked.
Taren placed the fruits on the wooden counter. "No questions, Markus."
Markus frowned as Taren grabbed a knife to cut the fruit into pieces. Nadia couldn't read Markus's expression. Maybe a mixture of fear and deep thinking?
"How'd you know my name?" Markus asked as Taren handed him the knife.
"You told me when you first entered."
"No, I didn't," Markus said. "None of us did."
"You must have. How else would I know?"
"I don't think we told you," Nadia said, suspicious of Taren. How could he know Markus? Did he know her as well?
Markus glared at Taren. "You're hiding something."
"It's none of your business," Taren said. "Do you want to save your friend's life or not?"
Markus looked like he wanted to argue, but he said, "Fine. Let's make this work."
Taren set a cup on the counter. "You'll need to squeeze the juice out of the fruit. I'll tell you when you have enough. Then he'll have to drink it."
With shaking hands, Markus released the juice from the fruit. Slowly at first, but he got more efficient with time. Nadia watched, praying that this would heal Rik. Markus hadn't lived his life preparing to lose his closest friends like she had.
Eventually, Taren said, "That's enough. Let's see if it works."
Markus gave him a look. "Are you saying it might not work?"
"It's possible. Your friend might be too far along."
They returned to the common room, where Rik lay motionless upon the table. Miles stood watch, though he appeared as if he'd rather not be there. Nadia approached with a tight chest and churning stomach. Please, God, let this work.
Markus looked paler than ever. Taren had taken the cup, probably because of Markus's trembling hands. When they reached the table, Taren raised the cup to Rik's lips. Rik moaned, looking as though he didn't know where he was.
Taren poured the juice into Rik's mouth, and Rik swallowed it.
"How will we know when it works?" Markus asked, swaying on his feet.
Taren took the empty cup away from Rik's lips. "We'll know in about a day."
Chapter 36
A few days after leaving the Crayden area, Tylen arrived in Varner City. He'd spent his nights in village inns, sleeping beneath dirty sheets, and he still felt like bugs were crawling all over him. How could people stand to live like that?
In one of the villages, he'd sold his smoke-stained suit for two gold coins—all the money he had left.
He passed buildings of wood and reddish stone taken from the nearby Red Plateau. To the east, the plateau's sheer cliffs towered hundreds of feet, their rocks a brilliant red.
The southern side of Varner City was home to its market district, a mixture of stone-fronted stores and open-air vendors. A place filled with people and the clamor of voices.
Tylen could no longer afford the purchases he used to make when he visited Varner City. There was no guarantee that his relatives here would take him in. He thought back with regret to the terms on which they'd last parted. Could he rely on their kindhearted nature and make them ignore the discord between them?
How could he have fallen so low? He'd pledged his support to Warrick, and Warrick had rewarded him by destroying everything that mattered in his life. In truth, Tylen had never trusted the emperor, but the man's actions seemed unreasonable now.
Had Tylen been that blind? Had he ignored all the warning signs so that he could live a pampered existence, thinking nothing could ever harm him as long as he professed support for Warrick? Perhaps his entire life had been a sham.
He'd never stopped to consider what he truly believed about things. All he'd ever cared about was self-preservation. Now that he had nothing left, he also had a chance to start anew.
Could he become a different person? He thought back to those moments when he'd almost harmed Nadia in the forest. If that was the man he had been, perhaps it was better if he left that man behind. There was nothing else left of him after all.
In a light, simple tunic and matching pants, Tylen looked like anyone else. Common. Tylen had never been common.
In low spirits, he reached the gate to his relatives' manor. The gate opened at his touch, and he took deep breaths as he walked along the clean cobblestone path leading to the front door. The manor stood close to the Red Plateau, fashioned of that area's beautiful stone. It had a warm, rich look, something Tylen could appreciate.
He stepped onto the large porch, taking deep breaths, and rang a bell beside the door. When at last the door opened, a servant eyed him suspiciously. "Have you business with Lord William?"
"Tell him his cousin Tylen is here."
The servant's eyes widened. "Forgive me, Lord Tylen. I didn't recognize you." He gave Tylen a small bow. "I will inform him that you are here. Please come into the sitting room."
Tylen followed the servant into a room furnished with plush red couches and chairs. Light-colored carpets ran along the reddish stone floors, and many fancy portraits adorned the walls. In all, Tylen had to appreciate William's taste, even if he didn't care for the man's politics.
But maybe William and the Order had a point. After what Warrick had done to Crayden, could Tylen continue supporting the man? Tylen could still see that wall of flame when he closed his eyes, could still hear the high lord's screams as they tortured him to death. Tylen had been so close to achieving his dreams, and they'd all slipped away so quickly, so senselessly.
He was a shell of a man now. Pathetic. Useless.
The servant returned with William, who glared at Tylen.
Tylen rose in greeting. "Good afternoon, William."
"Good afternoon, Tylen," William said coldly. "Why are you here?"
"You've heard about Crayden, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have. I hadn't expected you to survive. Nor did I expect you to come crawling to me even if you had. Do you think Maria and I wish to take you in?"
Tylen felt sick to his stomach. "You're family. That's what family does."
"You ceased being family when you defended Warrick in my home. All you care about is power, and you'll attach yourself to whoever can give you that power, even if it's someone as evil as Warrick."
Rage boiled within Tylen. How could William claim to be superior when he wouldn't even give Tylen a chance? Couldn't he see how desperate Tylen was?
"I've changed my mind on Warrick," Tylen said. "After what happened, how can I support the man any longer? I'll be like you, profess support while really opposing him."
"No, you won't, Tylen. You'll do whatever benefits you the most. We're done here."
"What about Maria?" Tylen asked, desperate. If William didn't take him in, he'd have nowhere to go, with only two gold coins to his name.
"She didn't even want to see you," William said.
"Can't you give me a chance to prove I've changed?"
"No, Tylen, you will never change. Now get out of my house. You're smart and resourceful. You'll figure out a way to get on your feet again."
Tylen turned away, passing a small table. With a quick sweep of his hand, he knocked a vase to the stone floor. It shattered loudly, and William swore at him. Tylen didn't turn back to see William's face, though. He didn't need to.
"You'll regret this, William."
Hot with anger, he stomped out of the house and slammed the door in the servant's face. His steps carried him to the market district, where he watched people going about their business in bright spirits. How dare they be happy when he was so miserable?
Two gold coins. He tossed them lightly, still fuming. Yes, that was more money than some people had, but not enough to give Tylen the comforts he needed. What had he ever done to deserve this?
Someone slammed into him from behind, and the gold coins clattered to the cobblestone streets. Tylen hit the ground with a heavy thud that knocked the wind out of him. As he recovered, the person who'd hit him looked down at him.
"Sorry for running into you," he said, then took off at a run. At first, Tylen was confused, but then he noticed that his gold coins had disappeared.
Enraged, Tylen jumped to his feet and chased after the thief. The man darted down the street, weaving through the crowd, slipping into narrow alleys.
Heart pounding, Tylen followed the thief onto another cobblestone street, where the man glanced back over his shoulder, collided with a group of shoppers, and fell. This was Tylen's chance. He unsheathed his sword and cornered the man.
"Give me back my money, you damned thief!"
"It's my money now. You'll have to take it from me."
"That can be arranged."
The thief scrambled to his feet, catching Tylen by surprise, and took off again. Tylen raced after him, pushing through crowds of curious onlookers. At last, he chased the thief into a dead-end alley. The man stopped, looking at Tylen with wide eyes.
Tylen advanced, sword drawn. "This is your last chance."
The thief tried to slip by Tylen, but Tylen was quick as well. He plunged his sword through the thief's back, and the man hit the ground hard, breathing anguished, gurgling breaths. The two gold coins fell from the thief's hand, and Tylen scooped them up. The man looked up at Tylen, his face pale, blood staining the ground near him.
"You got what you deserved," Tylen said, feeling no sympathy. "I gave you a chance. You didn't take it."
Tylen wiped his sword on the thief's clothes and was about to sheathe it when a voice came from behind him.
"Now this doesn't look good."
Tylen turned, and his heart sank. An Imperial Guard with a short, dark beard stood at the end of the alley, looking at Tylen with narrowed eyes.
Tylen's legs were quaking. "He stole from me. He gave me no choice."
"It is not your judgment to make. That judgment belongs either to us or the city guard. We can't have people exacting their own inconsistent justice."
Tylen forced his voice to remain steady. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."
"You know I can't let you off that easy. Like it or not, you've committed murder." The Imperial Guard smiled. "But maybe we can reach some kind of arrangement."
Tylen glanced around, looking for an escape route, but the crowd had dispersed, keeping a safe distance. He didn't blame them. "What kind of arrangement?"
"Give me those two gold coins, and I'll pretend this never happened."
"I can't do that. This money is all I have left. There has to be another way."
"Well, I could always kill you," said the Imperial Guard. "But I figured you might value your life more than a little money."
"I won't have a life without this money."
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that, but if that's the case, I'll just have to kill you."
Tylen tightened his grip on the sword. "I'm a skilled swordsman. I wouldn't recommend it. Leave me alone, and I won't have t
o kill you. What does the loss of a thief matter?"
"Emperor Warrick teaches us that all people are important, no matter how poor. He once had nothing to his name, and he rose to great heights. How do you know that you didn't just prevent someone from going on to a great destiny?" The Imperial Guard looked Tylen in the eyes. "And I doubt you'll prove a more skilled swordsman than me."
Tylen got into his fighting stance. "We'll see about that."
"Very well. It's your death." The Imperial Guard made the first move, a quick thrust toward Tylen's chest. Tylen deflected the thrust, then darted out of the way as the Imperial Guard tried another thrust, testing Tylen.
Tylen dashed back onto the main street, drenched in sweat. He had to be insane to think he could do this.
Their swords met in a quick series of clinks and clanks, and the fight began to wear on Tylen. He hadn't recovered from chasing the thief.
A crowd had gathered around them, but Tylen paid it no attention, focusing on the battle, on surviving. The Imperial Guard was clearly a superior swordsman, now that he wasn't holding back.
Tylen narrowly dodged a swish of his opponent's sword, then ducked behind a nearby barrel, trying to catch his breath. His heart pounded in his ears as his opponent approached.
"Come on out," the man said. "That's no way to fight."
Still out of breath, Tylen moved out from behind the barrel. The Imperial Guard leveled a quick swing at him, and Tylen rolled out of the way. Then he got to his feet, forcing all his will into his next attack.
He swung wildly, and the Imperial Guard ducked out of the way. Now Tylen was off-balance. Stumbling, he tried to get back in position, but his opponent's sword slammed against his, sending it flying. Tylen watched in horror as his sword clattered against the cobblestones, too far away to retrieve.
The Imperial Guard stepped closer, his expression unreadable. The crowd had given both of them a wide berth.
"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" the man asked.
"Trained a lot in swordplay, back in Crayden."
Empire of Chains (World in Chains Book 1) Page 29