Bloodletting Part 2

by Peter J. Wacks

  Drawing his sword, he pressed up against one side of the threshold and peered into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the shadows beyond the volight, he spotted a lone figure off to one side, struggling with something on the floor.

  Kellian stepped inside, blocking the doorway. “Who goes there?” The person froze. “What’re you doing here? This tower is off limits. Identify yourself.”

  “Corporal Mikkels?”

  Kellian recognized the voice and lowered his blade. “Tetra? What in the Voids are you doing in here?”

  The boy shuffled over so the volamp illuminated his face. Kellian didn’t like the look of immense guilt there.

  “Well?” he asked.

  Tetra met his eyes. “You’ve heard what my uncle said about Jaegen, haven’t you? What the king decided about my sister and the others?” He didn’t give Kellian a chance to answer. “We’re to do nothing. Sit here and pretend nothing happened. And worse, I have to go with my uncle.” Tetra growled. “So much for the king’s protection. Maybe he’ll send his army when Jaegen doesn’t pay its taxes this summer.”

  Kellian found his voice again. “What’re you doing here?”

  Tetra lifted his chin. “I’m going after them. My sister is alive. I know she is, and I’m going to find her. I’m going to save the survivors from my village.”

  “How?” Kellian sighed. “Tetra, have you forgotten the battle so soon? You won’t be able to fight off an entire oroc clan yourself. If you can even find her.”

  “We’re twins. We have a connection. We always have.” Tetra shrugged, as if acknowledging yet not caring how odd this sounded. “If I find her, I’m sure I’ll find the others.”

  “And if she’s surrounded by a horde of orocs? What makes you think you can even get close without them sensing you?”

  Tetra looked away. “I’ll figure out something. I’ve gotten stronger. I may not know how yet, but I won’t let that stop me.” His jaw clenched. “I’ll find a way. The Aspects themselves won’t stop me from rescuing my sister from those dirty beasts.”

  The boy needed help. If he went out there by himself, he would die, and it was obvious that nothing would stop him. Even if Kellian turned him in now, he would just take the first opportunity to sneak away. There was nothing to it, he would have to go with Tetra and keep him alive.

  The decision shocked Kellian, even as he made it. How could he consider it? He’d sworn an oath of fealty, both to the king and to his lord. Leaving with Tetra would mean the end of his career, at the least. His execution, at the most. At the same time, he knew the king’s decree was wrong. They couldn’t just let the massacre of Jaegen be forgotten, and if a chance offered itself to rescue the survivors, even after so much time, it mustn’t be wasted.

  He drew a deep breath. “I can’t let you go—”

  Tetra huffed and shook his head in disgust, anger creeping onto his face.

  “—alone,” he finished.

  Astonishment replaced Tetra’s scowl. He peered at Mikkels. “You’re serious.”

  Kellian nodded. “Wait here. I need to grab some supplies.”

  “I already have enough provisions for a week,” Tetra said, gesturing to a bundle on the floor. “And I stashed more out in the woods.”

  “Good planning, but we’ll need more. Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”

  Tetra eased back into the shadows as he headed out the door. Kellian prepared a mental list of things he needed to fetch. The kitchen had rations ready at all times, and it wouldn’t be unusual for one guardsmen to grab enough for his entire patrol. He’d need his pack, scouting gear, and the rest of his weapons.

  He crossed the courtyard to the barracks and went to his bunk, surrounded by snoring guardsmen. Creeping over to a cot near his, he shook the sleeping soldier there awake. “Jaimes. I need you to cover my patrol tonight.”

  “Wha’?” The sleepy guardsman sat up. “Why, Kell?”

  “No questions. You owe me a duty roster from Round Robbing last week. Cover the last hour of mine tonight and we’re clear.”

  Jaimes nodded and rose from his bunk. “Deal. I’ll be there in five.”

  “Thanks.” Kellian walked over to his bunk. Retrieving paper and an ink quill from his chest, he scribbled a letter, explaining his actions. He blew the ink dry and left the letter on his bunk before gathering the rest of his things and heading for the kitchen.

  Supplies secured, he returned to the tower and left his supplies in a corner by the door. He had to report to the watch commander at midnight or their rescue attempt would be very short-lived. Jaimes would start rounds just a moment after the report. He went to the front gate’s watch shack and strolled past, waving.

  “North wall secure,” he said. The commander waved back. Kellian felt a pang of guilt, hoping the commander wouldn’t get in too much trouble. Once out of sight, he ran back to the tower. Heart racing, he returned to the northeast tower and grabbed his supplies, then pushed open the door. The volamp had been extinguished.

  He whispered to the darkness. “Tetra.”

  No answer. Had the boy gone ahead, thinking the corporal would report him? He dared a louder call. “Tetra?”

  “Down here,” came Tetra’s faint voice. Light reappeared, rising from a hole in the floor.

  The smell of tobacco smoke wafted over him, and Kellian stilled. Someone else was here. Sighing, Kellian squared his shoulders and turned to see who’d caught them. Bealdred leaned against a corner of the smithy. The orange flare from his pipe lit his face with each pull as he studied Kellian. Then he nodded once and headed back to the smithy.

  Kellian released a shuddering breath and slung his supplies over his shoulder. He entered the tower, closing the door behind him. He stopped for a moment and studied the lock. With a keyhole on both sides, only someone with the key should’ve been able to open it. How had Tetra managed?

  The boy called over to him. “Come on.” Tetra’s top half stuck out of an opened trap door, and he stood on a staircase into the tower depths.

  “How’d you know about this?” he asked, handing over a portion of the supplies.

  “Bealdred told me.”

  “Did he let you in the tower?” Hefting his pack, he stepped into the hole. As Tetra descended, Kellian grasped the trap door and braced it against a shoulder, letting it ease shut as he followed.

  “No,” Tetra said from the next landing down.

  “Then how’d you get in?” Kellian grabbed his sack of provisions. Other than his clothes and a light jacket, Tetra had another sack of food, plus his sword and mace strapped to his belt.

  He headed down again, torch lighting the way. “I broke the lock.”

  Kellian paused. “Those locks are made of Glasmere steel. I don’t think even Lord Drayston could break one if he wanted to. Maybe if he had enough time …”

  Tetra shrugged. They descended several more flights to an earthen floor with a thick wooden door. Tetra grabbed the latch and pulled the door open. A wall of ice filled the tunnel beyond.

  “Oh, no.” Kellian probed the ice with his Affinity. “I’m sorry, Tetra. It’s almost two feet thick.” A lone Tidus like him couldn’t affect water frozen into such a solid block. It needed to be chipped or partially melted, with enough liquid flaws to manipulate.

  Tetra dropped his sack and pulled his mace free.

  Kellian shook his head. “We could pound on this all night and still not make a hole big enough to squeeze through.”

  Tetra reached out to touch the ice. Kellian felt a change in the frozen water, subtle at first but shifting fast. Tetra gasped as he pulled back and gripped the mace with both hands. With a quiet grunt, he slammed the flanged head into the ice. The wall shattered into a cloud of frozen dust and chunks.

  Kellian stood stunned. Could Tetra’s Graviton affinity be that strong? Only a Volcon should’ve been able to penetrate the ice so easily.

  Tetra looped the mace back on his belt and retrieved his sack. His breathing had gone ragged and sweat bea
ded his face and neck. He smiled weakly at Kellian and stepped through to the waiting tunnel.

  Kellian followed his young friend, wondering what other surprises the Jaegen survivor had in store.

  ***

  Chapter Nineteen

  Pavil Serevin

  Pavil hadn’t tasted mead before. Despite the sweet flavor, he didn’t enjoy it at first, but continued drinking at the insistence of the Admired around the fire. After returning from the rocboar hunt, the boys had spent the afternoon helping dress the carcass and then hauled yet another barrel of guts to the river.

  That was when the real shock of the day had come. As they walked back into the camp, Sibyl had surprised everyone by proclaiming the two boys full members of the band. True Admired, with an equal right and share in all they did from then on. This pronouncement had brought cheers from most of the others, and food and drink had been broken out to celebrate the occasion.

  Pavil took another swig from the jug. The taste of mead slowly grew on him, as did the fuzzy sensation in his head. By the time the moon rose in full, he laughed at everything around him, and everything laughed back. Someone took the jug from his hands, but his brief sadness at this washed away in the warmth flowing through him.

  “Boy,” a voice called over the din. The ruckus died down. “Boy!”

  “They’re Admired now, Riktos,” one man said.

  “Admired? Ha!” Riktos plugged one nostril and blew a wad of snot from the other. “They wouldn’t be admired by their own reflections.” He stood and glared at Malec across the fire. “Come here, boy.”

  “I don’t think we have to do everything you say anymore,” Malec said. He’d had a few gulps of mead himself, though not nearly as much as Pavil.

  Riktos’ lips parted in a grin. “That so? I’m still in charge here, and when you don’t obey, you get punished. So tell me again how you don’t have to do what I say.”

  Riktos gestured mildly with his hand and an iron skillet, sitting by the fire, shot up toward Malec.

  Malec smiled and tilted his head towards Riktos. The skillet halted in midair between the two and started spinning in place. Riktos’ laughter turned to a cry of surprise as the skillet jumped closer to him. He thrust a hand out to stop it, and the effort knocked him to the ground.

  Everyone quieted as he picked himself up and dusted off. Then he started chuckling, and Malec smiled uncertainly. After a few moments, other Admired joined in, Pavil among them. Maybe Riktos would be their friend now.

  “Not bad,” Riktos said. The skillet clanked against the ground. Then objects from all over the camp flew at Malec, none of them metal.

  The skillet flew back up, and spun around Malec as he tried to deflect the barrage. It wasn’t enough. He raised his arms to shield his head from the hail of objects as they pelted him. Riktos leapt over the fire and slammed into the boy. They continued flying back until they struck a tree a few feet away. Riktos pinned Malec there, a hand locked about his throat.

  Pavil shouted as he jumped up. The clearing lurched around him, and he almost stumbled into the fire before an Admired steadied him. He fought to get free, to help his friend, but strong hands held him back. “Let them sort it, Pavil. We won’t let Riktos kill him. And if you get involved he may try to kill you.” Pavil fought bile rising in his throat.

  Malec struggled to dislodge the larger man’s hand, but then froze as Riktos held up a small rock between two fingers. Malec desperately reached out with his affinity and found trace amounts of iron in the stone. It shot out and Malec pushed his affinity against the rock. It buried itself in the tree next to Malec’s head.

  “Missed,” Riktos said. “Let me try again.”

  Malec croaked something around blood pouring from his nose.

  “What’s that?” Riktos snarled. “Begging for mercy already?”

  He eased up enough for Malec to say, “Try again.”

  Pavil gaped as Malec’s new sword flipped through the air until the bent blade lay against Riktos’ throat. The man stilled, face locked in a snarl. “Go ahead, Riktos, see if you can push it away faster than I can cut your stinking throat.”

  “Let him go.” Sibyl called out.

  Riktos growled over his shoulder. “This doesn’t concern you.”

  “You’re attacking one of my men, Riktos. Nothing concerns me more. Release him or face me for it. Malec, drop the blade. Now.”

  A tense silence passed, then the sword flopped to the grass. Riktos let Malec drop. Pavil’s friend slid down against the tree, coughing, hands around his neck.

  Riktos faced Sibyl, and they stared each other down. Then the man grunted, shrugged, and stalked off into the darkness, wiping at his face with a dirty sleeve.

  Pavil ran to Malec and reached him right as Sibyl did. “You alright?” he asked.

  Malec coughed once more, nodding. He touched the blood on his face, then glanced up at the bandit leader. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Call me that again and I’ll let Riktos finish what he started.”

  Pavil licked his numb lips. “I kinda think he’s going to do that sooner or later, anyways.” He didn’t quite know where those words came from, but they felt right.

  Her shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly, and Pavil felt terrible, wanting to do anything to make her smile again.

  “I know.” She looked to where her third-in-command had disappeared. “I know.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty

  Halli Bicks

  The inner forest revealed itself as a whole other world to Halli’s eyes. The farther the Bearoak clan traveled, the bigger the trees became, the warmer the sun beamed down, and the more the air hung thick with moisture. Vines crisscrossed through the trees and giant flowers grew between the trunks. Everything here was scaled to be larger, like the orocs.

  She eventually realized the ground sloped down as they approached the heart of the Rocmire. Insects buzzed about them, vibrant birds flitted from branch to branch, and unseen creatures slithered or stalked through the underbrush. As she watched the scene, admiring the beauty, a brightly colored bird landed on a flower just off the path. The petals of the flower snapped shut and the bird vanished. Halli blinked. The forest suddenly seemed more deadly and less magical.

  The humans did their best to keep pace with the seemingly tireless orocs. Every child strong enough to carry another did so. Sven, Laney, and Halli rotated turns carrying Katerine’s stretcher, and when Sven had his break, he often carried one child with each arm and another riding on his back.

  Sometimes they had no choice but to make the children walk, which they did without protest. They had to watch out, though, to ensure they didn’t lose the smaller ones along the way. Little Zaeden wouldn’t peep a complaint, but once he got tired, he’d just sit on the ground and let everyone pass him by. They’d left him behind once by accident, and Gnarrl’s daughter, Furrl, found and returned him to the group before they realized he’d gone missing.

  They fell further behind throughout the first day until they trudged along at the rear of the caravan. Gnarrl and the other hunters masking the evidence of their passage slowed their pace to match the children’s, and darkness had fallen by the time they caught up with the larger group, already camped for the night. Gnarrl distributed food among them, and they devoured the meal before falling asleep—all but Halli, who stayed up to feed Katerine. The oroc kept sentries posted, more to keep them in than to keep dangers out, she suspected.

  The main body of the orocs, several hundred, were spread out over a quarter mile of the forest. Escape wasn’t an option. Halli focused on Katerine instead. She opened herself to the forest and felt that same abundance of energy she had felt when healing the wounded war party. She pushed the healing energy into Katerine, trying to show her spirit the way back to consciousness, but to no effect. Halli finally gave up and went to sleep herself.

  The next day proved more of the same, and the day after that. By then, they’d fallen into a routin
e where they could keep track of the children while almost maintaining pace with the central group of orocs. Almost. They still fell behind by afternoon, and when the hunters caught up to them, their irritation became more visible by that third day.

  “Stop,” Gnarrl said, once they’d splashed across a shallow stream. He came in front of them and held his hands up. “Rest.”

  The other hunters strode past, one grumbling, “We should have left them yesterday. They are as worthless and stupid as they are weak.”

  Halli’s temper already frayed by exhaustion, she shouted after them in their tongue, “You should’ve thought about that before you marched a bunch of saplings through miles of forest. Or maybe you should’ve thought about that before you destroyed our homes and uprooted us.”

  The hunters turned and gawked at her, most not knowing she could understand or speak their language. Most of the children, including Sven and Laney, stared at her, too.

  Gnarrl chuckled and rubbed at his chin, then looked to the gawking orocs. “Stupid, hm? So stupid to have learned our language with no instruction?”

  The hunter who’d insulted them blustered and headed off. Gnarrl watched him go before turning back to the children. “Rest.” He sat on a rock in the middle of the stream, toes dipped into the current.

  Halli stood apart from the other children as they all sat or lay down. She needed space to clear her thoughts and cool her emotions. The sound of trickling water drew her attention, and she saw a thin flow running down an overgrown embankment a short distance upstream. She started that way, ignoring Gnarrl’s concerned look.

  She ducked her head under the water, letting it rinse her hair a bit. A glorious feeling, even as the water dripped into a brown pool at her feet. Closing her eyes, she reached out for Tetra. She could feel him. The pain that had been flaring all winter wasn’t as strong now, and he seemed closer. Her heart fluttered in her chest. After standing there a while, focusing on her brother, she wrung out her hair and threw it over a shoulder.