“Thank you, brother,” she said. “But it has done far more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
A wicked smile crept over Elzaria's face. “I have quite a story to tell you.”
Elzor's mouth curled into a sneer. “I don't need a story, sister, I need answers.”
“Oh, you will get them.” She matched his scowl with one of her own.
His eyes widened. “Did you have another vision? What did you see?”
She met his gaze, unblinking. “Everything.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
D awn had barely broken the morning after Mizar's fight with the raiders when he and Sen resumed their journey to Ghaldyn. The girl seemed to have slept straight through without waking, and though her external injuries looked to be far less grave than the night before, she was still quite weak. Her body accepted a few precious sips of water poured into her mouth, and swallowed them without incident. Sen still thought it best they not risk feeding her until they reached their destination.
Sen used some more of his herbs to heal the wounds beneath her skin, including a sedative that would keep her docile for the time being. He then took a couple of minutes to heal his sore jaw, after which he proclaimed her well enough to travel.
They had no choice but to leave the raiders' bodies, as well as that of the dead chava, where they were. It took a few moments to tether the girl to Mizar so they could ride his merych in tandem without both of them falling off. Once both seated, he used another rope to tie her hands around his waist. She didn't even react. She fell into a listless sleep, using Mizar's back and neck as a pillow. Then they set off at as brisk a pace as they could manage.
A patrol intercepted them just as they reached the Shardyn Crossing. Their captain instantly recognized Mizar, who informed them of the four Vandan corpses to be found along the river, as well as their merychs and the dead chava. The captain suggested they harvest the chava for its meat, but Mizar insisted that it be burned along with the thieves', out of respect for the young life it had protected with its own. The soldiers again bowed, assuring Mizar they would carry out his orders.
Six hours after bearing due east, the three of them entered Ghaldyn province, a land of sprawling farms, ranches, and orchards. The girl had still not woken when they rode up the path to a large, wooden, one-story house. They were greeted by a tall dark-haired man in his early forties with shining brown eyes and a prominent nose, who embraced Mizar in a bear-hug once he'd disentangled himself from Vaxi and alit from his merych. Mizar introduced the man as his cousin Kimur, who enveloped Sen in a similar crushing hug.
Within minutes, the entire household ran up for a greeting and an embrace, welcoming Mizar back to the place where he spent his childhood years. Sen could only stand back and watch the reunion with a heavy heart. How he wished he had a family who would welcome him so.
Sen was introduced to Mizar's family: his cousins, as well as their wives and kids, who called the farm their home. There were several little children who, after getting hugs of their own, asked—-no, demanded—-that the High Mage of Darad make them fly, and Mizar was only too happy to oblige them for a short while. Sen smiled as Mizar used his abilities to make the little ones swoop just off the ground like fledglings.
Mizar then introduced Sen to his father Deegan, a man of eighty years, who welcomed both Sen and his “beloved son” with open arms. Because of his age and the degradation of his joints, he was unable to stand for more than a few minutes, and couldn't walk without a stick.
Sen wondered upon their arrival if Deegan's house, despite its size, would have enough room to accommodate three more people. The other of Mizar's cousins, Gandrel, volunteered to give up his and his wife's bedroom for the girl, who Sen assured them would need a few more days to recover. The timing, Gandrel explained, was perfect, as he was planning on leaving that day for the provincial capital, Ghal, to attend the region's annual harvest festival, and he would be taking his wife and all the children of the household with him. Sen was grateful for this: he figured when the girl regained her full faculties, the fewer people were around, the better.
Kimur's wife, Mareta, took the job of removing the still-sleeping girl's soiled, bloody clothes, washing her, and dressing her in a clean white night-robe before settling her down in bed. Sen assumed the sedative had worn off by then, but she still hadn't woken up. Her breathing was steady, though, and it looked like she was sleeping naturally.
When Sen first learned they would be traveling to Mizar's home, he made it a point to pack several herbs that alleviated joint pain. He'd heard, ever since his apprenticeship began, about the ailments that afflicted his Master's father, and he wanted to repay Mizar's kindness by relieving as much of Deegan's suffering as he could.
With Deegan looking on while stretched out on a cushion-covered couch, Sen rubbed several fennik leaves on his own palms, before placing his hands on Deegan's knees and closing his eyes. Concentrating his abilities, he felt the power flow through his hands and into the old man, who gasped as the chronic pain left his body. He was scarcely able to believe his eyes as he flexed his knee joints, first one and then the other, with little discomfort. Then his face broke into a wide, toothy grin, and tears fell from his eyes as he hugged Sen. Mizar, too, was all smiles. Sen advised him that this remedy was only temporary, however, and that overexerting himself would only cause the pain to return sooner. Deegan nodded in understanding, and invited them to join him at the table for an early supper.
Sen could only smile at Mareta as he dug into his plate of roasted billock. These birds, useful for their egg production, were also commonly used for food. Though he ate well at the Castle Randar, Sen missed the type of home cooking one only got on a farm. He devoured his billock breast, along with a small loaf of chaska bread and some vegetables, in no time. Mareta happily gave him a second serving. And then a third.
“So who is this girl you've brought to my home?” Deegan asked, taking a sip of manza cider. He'd had Kimur open a barrel of homemade brew to celebrate his son's return.
Mizar relayed the story about the vision he had that had led them to her, about his battle with the raiders, and Sen's exemplary healing abilities.
“Vandans,” Kimur scoffed, “They're like a plague of dingu bugs. Just when you think you have them under control, they rear their ugly heads again.”
“Right,” Deegan said. “I remember when King Armak sent the bragas packing. With my lad's help, of course.” He shot a proud look at Mizar, who raised his mug of cider.
“Those were dark times,” Mizar said. “And I fear there may be more ahead.”
Kimur and Deegan stared at him in alarm at this ominous proclamation. Neither spoke.
“In addition to the Vandan problem, there is trouble brewing in the west,” Mizar continued. “An upstart named Elzor has invaded Agrus, and slaughtered its rulers. I believe he has his sights set on larger prizes.”
“Great Arantha,” Kimur said. “Do you think these Vandan incursions have anything to do with this Elzor's machinations?”
“I do not know. King Aridor has gone to Imar to speak to Largo. With luck, we can broker an agreement to join forces with the Viceroy of Barju against him.”
“How large an army does he command?”
“From what I've heard, six hundred.”
Deegan's brows knitted. “Six hundred? How could anyone conquer Agrus with a mere six hundred men?”
Mizar's voice became hushed. “He has a Wielder under his command. A very powerful one. Her name is Elzaria. She is his twin sister.”
Kimur checked Mizar's face as if wondering if he was playing a practical joke on them. “It's not in your nature to jest, cousin.”
“I assure you, Kimur, I am dead serious.”
Deegan was practically spluttering. “A female Wielder? How is that even possible?”
“I do not know, Father. These are strange times, to be sure.”
“It is indeed,” Sen spoke up. “The invasion
of Agrus, Vandan raiders threatening our borders, and now this girl, riding through the Celosian Forest, alone, on a chava.”
Deegan's mug froze inches from his mouth. He affixed Sen with a hard stare. “What did you just say? A chava?”
“That's right,” Sen replied. “A magnificent animal. Sadly, it did not survive the raiders' arrows.”
Deegan was no longer looking at them. He rose to his feet, reaching for the walking stick leaning against the near wall. All the color had drained from his face.
“Father?” Mizar asked, also rising to his feet. Sen and Kimur stood as well.
“I must … I must get some sleep. I feel wearied by the day's excitement.” He shuffled towards the door leading to his room. “It is wonderful to have you home again, my son.”
“Sleep well, Father,” Mizar said, and Deegan disappeared into his room, closing the door.
“Master?” Sen asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“Worry not, lad,” Kimur said. “He tends to be a bit eccentric at times. Especially after a few nips of cider.”
Mizar turned to Sen. “Come, Sen, let us check on our mysterious traveler.” Then, to Kimur, he said. “I want to thank you and Mareta for taking care of him. It's good that our farm is in your capable hands. There was a time I feared our land would never bear the footprints of children again.”
Kimur smiled, and again Sen felt the familial bond between them. “Think nothing of it, cousin. Your name is among the most respected in all of Darad. You have brought honor to our family name, and stepping into your shoes as the caretaker to both your father and your land was the least I could do.”
The two clasped hands, and Kimur bowed his head. “Sleep well, Mizzy.” Sen's eyes widened, and saw Kimur leave the room with a subtle wink at him.
Sen opened his mouth, but Mizar shot him a steely-eyed glare, complete with pointed finger. “Not … one … word.”
“Yes, Master.” Sen tried to hide his smile, and failed.
Chapter Forty
M izar and Sen entered the girl's room to find Mareta sitting at her bedside.
“How is she?” Mizar asked.
Mareta was a vivacious, full-figured woman in her late thirties, with short dark hair and big blue eyes. She and Kimur had married young and now had four children. Looking at her and the happy life they shared, Mizar couldn't help but wonder what his life might have been like if he'd never made that fateful journey to Dar.
“She's still asleep, poor thing,” she said. “Her dreams have been … fitful. She's woken a few times, just long enough for me to give her a few sips of water, and she always just goes right back to sleep.”
Mizar approached the bed, staring down at the girl. “What do you mean, 'fitful'?”
“She talks in her sleep. Most of the time, her voice is too low for me to hear, but I've been able to make out a few words.”
“Such as?”
“She said 'Arantha' a couple of times. Maybe she was praying. She also said 'mother' once or twice. The only other word I understood was 'Protectress'.”
Sen sat in a chair on the other side of the bed. “ 'Protectress'? Strange word.”
“Nothing else?” Mizar asked.
“No. I've also taken a close look at her clothes. It's made from strong leather, tougher even than gurn hide. It bears no country's emblem. She possesses no jewelry, no talismans. The only thing she does have are scars.”
“Scars?” Sen asked, checking the girl for additional injuries.
“Yes, on her arms and back. They appear to be long healed.”
Sen's eyes went to the scars on her arms. “Yes, I saw them. Whoever this girl is, she's been through a lot.”
“Other than that, though,” Mareta continued, “she appears to be in great physical shape. Her muscles are well-defined, and with the wounds she sustained, she must possess admirable strength to have survived them.”
“Oh, she's strong all right,” Sen said, absently rubbing his jaw. “Where do you suppose she's from?”
Mizar shrugged. “Her skin is too dark for her to have come from the highlands of Barju or Imar. She could be from Agrus, I suppose.”
“That's a long way to travel, even by chava,” Sen said.
Mareta stood up. “Well, I have chores to finish, so I'll leave her in your hands now. Please call me if you need me for anything.” She walked up to Mizar, grasped his shoulders and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome home, Mizar,” she said, smiling. “It's wonderful to meet you, Sen.”
Sen bowed, and she closed the door behind her.
Mizar searched for another chair, but couldn't find one. The room Gandrel shared with his wife Lissa was not large, containing only a few shelves for clean clothes, a hamper for dirty ones, and two small end-tables upon which several candles provided the room's only light. Taking care not to disturb the girl, Mizar sat on the edge of her bed.
They sat in silence for the next hour, watching this mysterious girl whom Arantha himself had sent them to save. Mizar cast occasional glances at Sen's face, who watched her with rapt attention.
Because Sen had shouldered both his education and his duties so readily, Mizar often forgot just how young his apprentice was. He'd grown up under the same roof as a father that abused him at worst, ignored him at best. He'd spent little time around kids his own age, and apart from the occasional hellos he gave to kitchen maids he passed in the castle, he'd had no meaningful contact with females. And he'd saved this girl's life. It was no wonder he'd already formed an attachment to her, despite her rendering him unconscious.
Mizar moved to one of the night tables upon which, apart from the candles, was a pitcher of clean water. He poured some of its contents into a couple of mugs, paused briefly to lower the water's temperature to a refreshing coolness, and handed one to Sen, who took it with a quiet 'thank you'.
“Master, may I ask you something?”
“You may.”
“You said your duties as High Mage prevented you from marrying and having a family.” There was more than a trace of trepidation in his voice.
“That is correct.”
“Is there … is there some sort of law that prevented you from doing so?”
Mizar averted his gaze to the candles flickering on the night table, choosing his words carefully. “No, no law. It just sort of happened that way.”
Sen sighed heavily. “I see.”
“When I first discovered my abilities, all I could think about was how miraculous a gift I'd been given. That I could repay my king and my country for the prosperity generations of my family have enjoyed. I did this freely and without hesitation.”
Mizar hung his head, as if his thoughts were a great weight upon it. “I always knew that by becoming High Mage, I would have to make certain sacrifices. Instead of spending my days at my family's side, I would be advising the king. Instead of harvesting the fields and tending the flocks, I would be educated and trained for a position few men have ever had the privilege of holding. A position, as you can imagine, where isolation and seclusion are expected.”
Sen nodded.
“Believe me, I would not have voluntarily chosen a life of celibacy. The people of Darad laud me as a dignitary or divine presence whenever I venture outside the castle, but I have always sensed a fair amount of fear in them as well.”
Sen nodded. “They fear your abilities.”
“Yes. Can you blame them? What if I were to one day decide that I no longer wanted to be subordinate to the king? What if I suddenly craved power for myself? Who would stop me? Who would save them from me?”
A pained expression crossed his apprentice's face, as if he couldn't even fathom such an event.
“Thankfully, King Aridor knows that I possess no such cravings. It took me many years to convince Armak that I had no desire whatsoever to use my power to usurp his. By the time Aridor gained the throne, trust was never an issue, as we'd had many years to become friends. But the people? They only have their king's assuranc
es that I am not a caged, snarling beast, held in check only by my tenuous oath to serve the crown. 'Tis no small thing, wielding the power I command. Were I more faithless, or weak, or corruptible a man, I might have chosen a far more destructive path.”
Mizar reached over and put a comforting hand on his apprentice's arm. “But you are a healer, Sen. My power, as you saw yesterday, can be used to take life, whereas you wield the power to restore it. The citizens of Darad, once word of your existence becomes widespread, will look upon you with far less dread than they look upon me.”
“When do you think that will be?” Sen asked. “That everyone will know about me?”
“When I deem you ready,” Mizar said. “You have a kind soul, Sen. You would wish to use your abilities to heal all of Elystra if you could. Am I right?”
Sen thought for a moment. “I suppose so.”
“The hardest lesson you are going to have to learn is that the world, and life in general, dispenses more pain and suffering than you could hope to allay in a thousand lifetimes. You must accept this limitation, or it will drive you mad.”
“I understand, Master. I was happy to ease your father's pain, though.”
“I don't even have the words to properly thank you for that. Seeing my father happy again was a gift I can never repay.”
Their conversation was cut short by a soft moaning sound, and both men turned to face the girl, who was turning her head from side to side, as if trying to shake the cobwebs out. As they watched, her eyes fluttered open. She blinked a few times, scanning her surroundings. After a few moments, she seemed to realize she wasn't alone. Mizar caught a flash of what looked like fear in her eyes as she focused first on his face and then Sen's.
Her eyes shot to her hand, which Sen was once again holding. She took in his features, lit only by the three candles that hadn't yet sputtered and died. Then, for the first time since she burst from the forest, she spoke.
“Sershi?” It came out as the softest of whispers, but in the quiet of the room, both men clearly heard it.
Pawns (The Wielders of Arantha Book 1) Page 30