Call of the Chosen- Broken Kingdoms

by Michael DeSousa

  “Until next week,” Marabaunze asked, sudden doubt in her voice.

  “I can’t leave town,” Ed said. “I’ll be around.”

  Olsen finally cracked a tight grin. “Doubt you’ll go to the Town Crier.”

  “After what Central Office is doing, I’ll end up getting into more trouble.”

  Olsen chuckled, rising to his feet. Greener did too and Marabaunze joined them at the table. “Let us know if you head over there,” Olsen added. “I’d like to be a part of that trouble.”

  Greener slid up his sword an inch out its scabbard. “So would I. My little wooden sword bearers don’t get enough real practice.”

  Ed smiled. “No, no, we all have examples to set, Captains.” And then after a short pause and a curt nod, “until next time.”

  Ed walked out, feeling somewhat empty, as if he left a part of him behind in that room. He didn’t expect meeting those three to have such an effect on him, or maybe because he didn’t realize it might have been the last time. “It won’t be,” he tried to convince himself.

  22

  Mend on the Mend, Araa’s Ordeal, and Ed’s Trials

  “…and so, we the Polopilians, believers of unity, harmony, and tradition, can no longer remain idle while the Apostate Emperor Siga Ladress encroaches on our lands. Though we remain steadfast in our opposition to shed blood for possession of the Black Monolith, we will provide a defense for our brothers and sisters of the Black Clan. As our great ancestor, Chief Polopilio the Uniter, would have wished, we stand with you…”

  -A Decree from the Polopilians to the Black Clan

  Cyne must have threatened the doctors because that medic mage —some name Mend intentionally forgot— wanted to either kill him with exhaustion or freeze him to death with all the exercises he put him through. Did Cyne seriously think Mend would have to lift mountains and wrestle bears to find this Glen? The mage had him lifting more weights than Mend saw in gold, stretch in ways the Almighty never meant for man, and even got him to jog without crutches around the room with the grace of chicken with its head cut off. By the time dinner came, Mend oozed into his bed, too exhausted for words.

  ‘You did good today, Glen,’ the bastard told him with that obnoxious smile Mend was convinced hid a demon. ‘I won’t have to come tomorrow. Heal up.’ Heal up? Mend would be lucky his arms and legs didn’t fall off during the night.

  And that was exactly how he spent the night: in bed, moaning, aching, and starving with the residual strength of a toddler. His dinner might as well have been halfway to the moon, he couldn’t reach it. The hours dragged on and his thoughts eventually shifted between leaving this awful island and that other demoniac of the Dark Well, Josie. She…better be alright.

  Sometime in the morning, his stomach gave him an ultimatum: it would let him sleep if he figured out how to eat without the use of his muscles. It…was a challenge, but worse, the steak was cold and whatever butter they had put on the vegetables had coagulated. The apple, at least, was delicious, with the few bits he managed by bobbing his head down at it like a drunken snake.

  But even after eating, his stomach betrayed him with cramps that always seemed to know the exact moment he would fall asleep. So, grumbling, he migrated —more like tumbled— from his coffin-like bed to a chair by the window, watching yet another dawn rise over the city lights. Bored, irritated, anxious, he frowned at the metal and smoke scene outside. It’s been two days since Josie left for her interviews. Days he spent wondering if Siga had tortured her. Might do her some good, humble her a bit —No, Mend didn’t want to joke about that now. He wasn’t wondering about her; he was worrying over her. Worrying over a Shadow Agent that deserved what she got? They murdered people for their cause without a second thought! Bad people, sure, but…

  Mend snickered. “But nothing’s ever that important enough to kill for,” he whispered. And that was why he hated them, Roe, Josie, and all of them, their…stupid uncompromising sense of purpose. They’d kill and die for their goddess too, wouldn’t they? “Nothing’s ever important enough to die for either,” he whispered again. And how did that make sense? If a goddess needed people dead to help end their tyrant problem, maybe those dead were a bit more powerful than the goddess herself. “No one deserves to die,” he said with a low growl. He snickered again; Roach rubbed off on him more than he’d like to admit. But, one thing he’d never do is collect favors—

  Josie walked through the door, wearing her old bland nurse’s long dress.

  “Josie,” he shouted, trying to stand up, which from her point of view must have looked like a seizure.

  An eyebrow rose as a wry grin stretched across her face.

  “Uh, whatever, you’re back,” Mend tried playing it cool. He did not want her to think he cared about her safety; he’d probably get put on some Shadow’s death list for it.

  “Oh, excited to see me, are you? They must have sent you a pretty bad replacement.”

  “Didn’t think it was possible someone crueler than you existed out there.”

  She crossed her arms, eyeing his immobile form with dark satisfaction. “Who was it? I might want to exchange notes.”

  “Uh, no. Don’t. Last thing I want is a competition.”

  Josie cracked a chuckle, but her demeanor didn’t change. Crossed arms about her chest, neck cocked back and head tilted slightly, studying him like a viper about to attack. The gears of her paranoia were turning. She then pressed her lips to a line, “Just tell me what I missed.”

  “I, uh…nothing. I just thought you might have left without me. That’s all. Surprised you didn’t.”

  She snorted. “Believe me, I wish I could. But squaring a favor for Rochelle is worth a hell of a lot to me.”

  “Yea, I know what you mean.”

  She softened a genuine smile —as strange as it was to see— and walked over to the window beside him. She stared out, watching the morning with him as city lights turned off one by one in the brightening day. “Yea, I suppose you do,” she finally said, somberly. Definitely a change in her. Mend wondered what happened while she was gone. Did she catch wind of a set up? Was she second guessing helping him and just leaving? It would make his life a whole lot easier.

  After a few more moments of silence, he asked, “What favor did Roach do for you?”

  She turned down at him. “Roach?”

  Mend smiled sheepishly. “It’s stupid, I know. A small act of rebellion, I suppose.”

  She matched his smile as though she understood. “Your funeral.”

  “She wouldn’t, unless the funeral turned a profit.”

  She chuckled before turning her gaze outside. “Rochelle. She used to be one of us.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Yea, a disciple of the Veiled Goddess, a Shadow Agent. She never told you?”

  Mend leaned forward, resting his head on his open plans while blinking a few times. “No, no. Go on, go on.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Mend,” she said. “Rochelle Von Davenance, Night Matriarch of Breska. Breska is —was her territory, her sect. I was pretty new at the time and in a different sect when I met her. She was always out in the field, apparently doing foreign diplomacy work. A lot of good that did us.”

  “A Matriarch,” he repeated in awe. He always suspected she must have been a Shadow, but a Matriarch? That’s pretty high up, and it meant she might have been on the Nocturnal Council too, overseeing strategic long-term plans for the Shadows. Mend was proud of himself for piecing so much information about them over the years. “So, Roach was a Matriarch? Explains a lot. Did she really leave or was she kicked out? She doesn’t really take much about her past.”

  Josie looked at him sideways. “And neither should I. Don’t make me regret telling you what I did.”

  “Me? Tell Roach? She’d just think I got a lucky guess.”

  Josie shook her head.

  “Come on, it’s only one question. Did she leave or was she kicked out? Please—”

  “Alright. S
he left.”

  “Wait, don’t you guys kill oath breakers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Down to one-word answers, huh?”

  “Mend, if she didn’t tell you, I’m not.”

  He sighed. “Well, I suppose some of the mystery is gone now.”

  “Mystery?”

  “Yea, I was hoping she committed a big crime with a huge bounty and was hiding out. That way if she got into too much trouble, I could turn her into Landrie with a clean conscious.”

  Josie rolled her eyes. “She’s too good for you, you know that.”

  “Josie. I’ve known Roach my whole life. She’s done some favors, yea I see that, but come on. What could she have done for you that you're …uh…risking your mission and purpose to save me for?”

  Josie’s expression softened again. “I really do feel sorry for you,” she said. “I’m repaying her debt for just one favor. Imagine how much you’re going to owe her.”

  Mend grumbled. He didn’t owe her anything. Wasn’t his choice to be abandoned by his parents. Why did she pick him up anyway? Damn Roach, he’d have been better off left where she found him. World was no better or worse without him.

  Josie laughed. “Don’t sulk, Mend,” she said, walked over the counter behind his bed. “You should be happy. Doctor Yah’v told me your recovery is back on track.”

  “Yea, yea. I don’t care.”

  “I do. I’m not carrying you out of here.” You won’t have to ‘cuz you’ll be dead.

  “Hey Josie…,” Mend began slowly, thinking of the right words. He had to tell her she was in danger, if just to get it off his damn conscious. But he couldn’t just come out and say what Cyne and Sera told him. No, that would be too suspicious to the paranoid mind of a Shadow Agent accustomed to being neck deep in espionage. Josie would think he was just covering up for himself for blowing her cover. That bitch would blame it all on him. Besides, he really didn’t want to ruin a good thing here —Sera really thought he was a good guy…even if he lied about the whole brother thing.

  “I can still hear you sulking, Mend. Don’t worry, I’m not going to stick you with needles today. I’m just fixing up your medicine.”

  Don’t screw this up, Mend. He opened his mouth, “You…uh… you know what would be a great idea? Leaving tonight, you and me,” he said, winching. “I can walk now.” But, his legs pained just from the thought of moving them again. “Please. Let’s go tonight. The moons waning; it’ll be gone soon. I have a raft and gear waiting. They haven’t found it —at least I don’t think. But, I’m sure you have gear of your own to get us back to the mainland. Roe’s a big girl now. Let’s just go.”

  She returned, a short cup of that blueberry liquid-fire in her hand. She patted his head. “Drink up.”

  “Please, Josie.”

  “Drink. Mend.”

  He drank it with that familiar whirlwind of fire that must have purified every evil deed he’d ever done, cauterizing through his heart and soul.

  “Water,” he coughed.

  “Sorry, no water,” she said. “Can’t delude it.”

  “Josie. We. Go. Tonight,” he said between coughing fits.

  She patted his head again, taking the cup and walking with that annoying spring in her step back to the counter. There, she hummed, writing down some damn thing on a paper. If his throat wasn’t melting, he would have cursed her out.

  “Let’s go,” he eked out.

  “No, not yet,” she finally acknowledged him. “I know you wanna get out of here, but I’ve got dinner with Emperor Siga himself tomorrow night—”

  “Don’t go,” he coughed, cupping his mouth with his hand.

  Josie huffed. “I’m going, Mend,” a warning stirring in her voice. “We’re not leaving because you’re getting scared—"

  “Damn it, Josie. I’m trying to save your life,” he shouted through the burn, but he knew immediately he had made a mistake. Two mistakes: one, he used her name out loud and… of course, the ‘save your life’ part. Yup, that was enough rope he’d hang himself on. She’d want to know why he had said that —probably already guessing wrongly that it was his fault. She was a Shadow, after all. And he was just a member of some “bum crew.” They were royalty. He was peasantry. They, perfections in the arts of subterfuge. Him, sycophants—

  She slammed the cup on the counter, shattering it into pieces. “Mend,” she said with her voice teetering between calm waters and an ocean tsunami.

  Mend sighed, resigning himself to the pain ahead. Why not go with it? “Uh, excuse me. Miss. Did you see where that nice Nurse Lora went? She’s very kind—”

  She snapped around. “Mend,” she said again with a strange smile that seemed like a great wall keeping in a furious beast. She clasped her hands in front of her while shaking her head. Where this was going, Mend had no idea, but it wasn’t going to be pleasant. “I want you to be truthful with me,” she said slowly. “Why are you rushing me out of here?” She strolled over, taking out a knife from behind her. Oh, good a knife! Mend was beginning to worry Josie didn’t have an imagination. Needles were getting boring. “Hmm? I’m waiting. Glen. Why is it exactly you think my life is in danger? And not, our lives, or maybe, your life. Hmm? Why would anyone here suspect me? Why exactly should I be worried?”

  ‘Maybe because your hair dying skills were no better than a two-year old’s finger paint art,’ would have been a very bad answer. Instead, Mend stumbled on, “Uh well, you…uh. You’re going to see Sig, right? You know he can read minds. It’s dangerous. You’ll get caught.”

  She stepped behind him and crouched down. Mend tried to stand but she grabbed hold of one of his arms, keeping him seated, which in his condition didn’t take much. A cold edge, predictably, met his neck.

  “One question,” she whispered in his ear. “While I was out, Sera and Cyne talked with you. What did you tell them?” Tell them? The bitch really thought he betrayed her? Mend wanted to say it was her own damn stupidity that got her caught…but he wouldn’t mind seeing tomorrow, so he stayed silent. “Mend,” she whispered again, pressing the knife against his skin. “You know what I’m capable of. You know I will never risk my mission. You’re nothing to me, hero, so if I don’t hear the answer to my question…,” the knife pressed harder against his neck. Killed by Josie. He couldn’t believe it; there was no poetry in that. If anyone from the Shadows was going end up killing him, it would have to be Roe; she always liked taunting him. But Josie? No, she’s too ‘smart’ for that. Why? Because….

  “Go ahead, bitch, cut me,” Mend replied, craning his neck for a clearer cut. “And every damn mage, soldier, cook and tot old enough to hold a rock would hunt you down before you made it to shore for killing the hero of the island.” An exaggeration, yes, but it seemed to resonant with her because she didn’t say anything, just her soft breath against his ear and the knife, thankfully, not pressing any further. But then her breathing disappeared, and all grew still. Silence reigned, and not just the absence of noise, but a concealment of the world around them. He glanced down and saw nothing but the chair he sat in. His arms and legs were gone too. He, himself, seemed to be engulfed in her sheath, the ability her ‘goddess’ gave her. If not for the cold edge against his neck and her firm grip on his arm, he would have thought she was gone too. But, no. Mend snickered, the sound evaporating before leaving his lips. She really was going to kill him anyway, and he found himself resigned to it. And why not? Dead for a good deed—

  Josie got up suddenly, smacking the back of his head hard with her palm. “You’re just a punk, Mend,” she said, tossing the knife onto the counter before walking to the door. Mend checked his hands, arms, legs, before feeling his neck. He was visible again, again apart of the world. He let out a long breath. “No, I don’t think you’re smart enough to tell them anything without getting yourself into trouble, but I know how stupid you could be.” She then pointed at him, curling her lips. “I am not going fail because of you.”

  Mend shrugged, turning
his gaze out the window. He tried warning her, and besides, he had his ticket out of here. If she wanted to stay and die, fine by him.

  “Dumb brat,” she said, before slamming the door behind her. Those were Roach’s words, but they stung now. Bitch.

  ***

  Roe felt herself swaying, but couldn’t understand why. Her thoughts seemed far from her like being on the edge of sleep, not quiet awake nor dreaming. A cold towel pressed down on her forehead; only then did she feel the heat in her body, sweat on her face trickling down her temples and cheeks. Had she contracted a fever?

  “Bran, keep her head cool. I’ll try to identify her illness.”

  “Is it fever? Maybe it’s poison? Or, you don’t think she…”

  “No, it’s not the Chills. She still has her warding stone on her and it’s cold. And that other guy seemed fine. Took a sample from him, nothing they shared. It might be poison, but I doubt it. He sounded too much like an islander….”

  Islander, her mind caught onto that word, but she didn’t understand what it meant. Like a task she needed to do but couldn’t remember what, she mulled it over as the word blended with strange images, colors, and other stray thoughts…. A dream formed and she slipped into sleep.

  She knew right away she was dreaming, a lucid dream. Very rare for her, usually her dreams were nightmares of her past, imagined jobs gone horribly wrong, or marks who weren’t dead, but wanted vengeance. But this time, she stood in a black void like a staging ground for her imagination. A welcomed change. Not knowing how to take advantage of it, she blinked into existence a grassy plain filled with warding stones —Why are you nearing me? Have you finished your quest?— that stretched out for miles. Next, she blinked a bright sky, white billowy clouds among —Now I smell both Eventide, and the Red Mountain, on you. What could have happened?— summer blue skies. A noonday sun warmed her face. —So Eventide lives, but Randagor fell to that traitor— She thought of her old village back when she young, innocently unaware of the horrors around her, and there in front of her, her familiar home appeared. —Randagor’s Red Mountain has been found then? But you have paid dearly for it.— The entire village splayed before her, homes around a central hearth and community warding stone pillar with more homes spiraling up a large rocky hill to a lookout castle ruin on top. She was never allowed up there, the place where Commissioners stayed during visits and foremen watched over everyone. But now, here in her dream, she was free to do whatever she wished. —How long do you intend to go on ignoring me?